November 12, 2019 Volume no.14

Good writing, with a strong point and with life oozing out.

In medias res since 1969.

Published from just outside of Washington, DC.

September 12

September 12, 2019

on a day filled with sadness
and seeking some relief
I laid down on the couch
praying for sleep

I dreamt that I was at a desolate beach
sunny, windy fall weather
with my oldest daughter
emptied my pockets
and returned to find
what I had lost:
my wallet

frantic, I desperately searched
hoping for mercy
for respite
for a miracle

what I found were many people
all of whom were abstractly aware of my loss
offering empathy and understanding
and what felt like silent judgment

one of them smiled
handing me a bag
I wept with relief
finally searching through the bag
but no wallet

friend after friend, bag after bag
filled with many things I had lost:
old car keys, photos, surfboard repair kit,
notebooks, swim goggles, recipes,
but no wallet

pulling myself together,
I thanked my friends
but kindly pointed out
that their gifts were only adding to my shame
at losing what was most precious
how had I let this happen?
how would I ever fix it?
how could I let him get away from me?
the loss I could never replace

and as I sobbed myself awake
sensing someone walk toward me
silently sitting beside me
their presence squooshing my legs
into the back of the couch
eventually calming me down
I opened my eyes
to thank them for their comfort
but no one was there

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