Between Octobers

October 9th

October 9th

Tuesday was much the same. I spent my morning riding the bus across town to the impound lot. Thankfully, my Cherokee was considered undesirable; I could tell right away that everything was just where I left it. Even my registration stickers were intact. The temporary wisps of relief were replaced with guilt and dread as I tried, unsuccessfully, to gather myself before the kids came home.

 Sol always had his phone with him and after, I always had it with me. I would scroll through the text messages, read them over and over again. It wasn’t so difficult to accept the loss of the printed words. It was the pictures I regretted losing. Irreplaceable pieces of time, framed moments we spent together. Tangible remnants of happiness. 

My eyes were red and puffy over an inanimate object. Strange how things could take on such immense value because of the owner.

I managed to keep up the ruse well enough for Caleb but not Noah. He never asked, but I could tell he was worried I might end up depressed again. I could see the shadows of my darkest days in his eyes when he looked at me. The days when all I could do was sleep. I gave him a reassuring pat on the arm when he offered to assist his younger brother with a bath and put him to bed for me. Though my heart ached that he would feel obligated to make the gesture in the first place, I took it.

I wanted to hide.