Category: Life – It doesn’t live itself

A Nation of Battered Women

~ Sahara ~ 2 Comments

It’s kind of fun to have a whole bunch of draft posts that I haven’t gotten to and revisit. I stumbled on this one from November 2019, four sleeps before Election Day. Looking back, these were the halcyon days.

The impeachment hearings began last week, and if the next few weeks of testimony are like the first, it’ll be pretty damning. (Not that is fucking mattered.)

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“Mom! I need you.”

~ Sahara ~ Leave a comment

Over night has been rainy, but it’s now dry enough to sit on the pathway in my neighborhood. It’s chilly for August. I’m in long sleeves.

My daughter just called me, but I think she got distracted. We went on a search for mud this morning; my headache demands an outing with little exertion.e

Now she’s sitting under a tree, digging. She’s wearing a new dress we got yesterday that is, miraculously, not really getting dirty. What a good play dress.

There’s a horse farm across the street, but they have corn growing this year, too. When I look up over the fields, the broad leafed trees behind them and a mist settling on them, I always get lost in imagining flying over them or being surrounded by them. Like that bird calling right now.

It has been 23 years since the accident. 23 years, today. What a 23 years.

Now she wants me to shake bush limbs over her head to pretend it’s raining on her. Those grey clouds tell me real rain is coming again.