This is my latest One Year Of Letters offering. Please stop by the site and read the writings of the fabulous writers there. They pour their hearts into their words.
December 28, 2015
I write as rains pelt the roof and winkle their way into my basement in streams that engulf my ankles. The weather’s pitter-patter used to soothe me, a comforting lullaby that made me enjoy the comforts of a warm blanket and comfortable couch. Not any longer, though. Each splash on the window panes sinks my stomach. My arthritis flares, but worse, anxiety nauseates me. I’ll need to run the wet vac more tonight than usual to arrest the encroacher’s flow. I’ll be forced to devote another day’s efforts to the futile pursuit of a watery interloper. My shoulders and back complain, thinking of stooping and reaching and emptying burdened vacuum canisters. My psyche yearns for comfort, and the child in me wants to run away from the whole muddled mess.
Yet for my kids, I don a happy face. I wipe the worry away and try…
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