It's Saturday and I didn't go see my mom today.
There are reasons. Mostly exhaustive depression, but also a cough and sinus issues. And while orange juice may look like summer sunshine in a glass, it doesn't really burn away the oppressive sadness of today's cinder block colored sky.
Why am I writing if I lack the energy to drive 5 hours to see my mom? How can I leave her in that place which smells of medical disinfectant, and agedness? Is it really because I don't feel well enough to drive, or is it simply because I am cowardly today?
Do I really crave the chance to hide in my cave of convenience and familiarity more than seek the light of her cherished smile?
I texted with a friend, explaining the lack of Waze link, why there'd be one tomorrow instead. Said I really am ready to be not quite so tired. all. the. time. He said to go to sleep and get up at normal hours, and get enough sleep.
Drink some orange juice. Get rest. Take care of yourself.
The words sounded like my mother's and tears slide along my cheeks before I blinked to stop them. I miss her keenly. But yet again, I won't go see her. Instead my roommate and I order pizza and watch Game of Thrones DVDs, calling it a mental health aftercare day.
We feast on seared animal flesh, our teeth tearing at bread drenched in garlic while cheering dragons. And ignoring that emerging somber sky.
There are reasons. Mostly exhaustive depression, but also a cough and sinus issues. And while orange juice may look like summer sunshine in a glass, it doesn't really burn away the oppressive sadness of today's cinder block colored sky.
Why am I writing if I lack the energy to drive 5 hours to see my mom? How can I leave her in that place which smells of medical disinfectant, and agedness? Is it really because I don't feel well enough to drive, or is it simply because I am cowardly today?
Do I really crave the chance to hide in my cave of convenience and familiarity more than seek the light of her cherished smile?
I texted with a friend, explaining the lack of Waze link, why there'd be one tomorrow instead. Said I really am ready to be not quite so tired. all. the. time. He said to go to sleep and get up at normal hours, and get enough sleep.
Drink some orange juice. Get rest. Take care of yourself.
The words sounded like my mother's and tears slide along my cheeks before I blinked to stop them. I miss her keenly. But yet again, I won't go see her. Instead my roommate and I order pizza and watch Game of Thrones DVDs, calling it a mental health aftercare day.
We feast on seared animal flesh, our teeth tearing at bread drenched in garlic while cheering dragons. And ignoring that emerging somber sky.
No comments:
Post a Comment