I try to keep things fairly light here, so when I write a piece that is… not that, I can end up in a bit of a bind.
Do I share because that’s where I was on that particular day? I don’t, usually. For example, I recently wrote a drabble that has not even a sprinkling of humor to lighten the mood. That’s how it goes sometimes.
I’ve been writing less than I’d like, and what I do write is darker than I’d like. It’s easy to get distracted by the world. But that’s also our context right now, and what we need to get through in order to move on to the next better thing.
It’s like football great Rosey Grier’s classic song, “It’s Alright to Cry”:
“It’s all right to cry
Crying gets the sad out of you.”
So today I’m going to share one of my darker drabbles, because what is art if not a reflection of the maker’s time and place? (But I’ll add an extra step to view here in case this isn’t your thing right now.* I get it!)
Remember I Love You
“I love you,” she would say as I ran outside.
Determined, I searched for water, scrap metal or other goods extricated from the rubble. Fuel, usually the kind that used to be someone’s house. Food, always.
Anything to keep the family going. I learned that from my mother.
She stayed with my little brother. He stopped crying two days ago.
“Remember I love you,” she’d say, her eyes turned away from the morning sun. She watched our last pot simmer, making stew with whatever she could find.
Her hand could still grasp the wooden spoon.
She had three fingers left.
Told you it was dark. But if that’s the rain, I think we’ve earned a rainbow!
* With apologies to my email subscribers, who apparently get the unfiltered version.
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