Chickens at Dawn
It’s not just recounting the little things that counts. It’s the breathing. It’s the canary singing in the silence and the dawn over the chicken coop. It’s my daughter who looks at me with a smile that says she knows she is stuck with all the love I can give her.
Trust broke for me when the last assault happen. The worst part about that sense of unreality, of feelings erased, was in my relationship to others. Here were my children and though I could act, I wasn’t feeling. I could reason that they were maybe hurting worse than I and definitely needed me more than ever before, but, I couldn’t feel. So, I acted. Acting turns to realty, if only one tiny moment and then a few more at a time.
And, now, I sit here with a handful of pictures from when my children were little and I grin at them, even though noone else is in the room.
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One thing I remember vividly about that time period was the pressing need to say the words “I love you.” And I did, many times throughout the years. I always assumed I said it because I needed to hear those same words said back to me. It didn’t really matter if all the feelings were behind those words, you never failed to reassure me that I was loved.