Is It Lovely where you are?
A year has dragged. A year has trudged along my existence carrying birthdays, holidays and celebrations. A year has lingered senselessly, pointlessly, slowly… Is it lovely where you are? Do you see me struggling, enduring, and surviving? Time has not begun to heal me. The scar is still lively and vigorous. When will it heal, mom? I still wait for a shining morning, a bright spot, a light at the end of this cold tunnel. Nothing. I still hold my daughter tight at night hoping to feel you, smell you, and grasp a sensation of you. I still look through old pictures, hug them, cradle them and sob for you. I still (so secretly) dial your number and wait, endlessly… The bitterness of this sadness is slowly eating at me, reigning over every moment, every memory, and every breath. So tell me mom, is it lovely where you are? Do you see the stars from where you stand? Because I don’t…Nothing seems to be the same. Not even the evergreens that I love. Through my eyes, they don’t stand in majesty and