Each morning. For 18 years. It would be early and dark out. I’d silently prepare for work. I’d shower. I’d shave. I’d dress. I’d grab my briefcase. I’d tip-toe past their rooms. Their doors would be closed. No need to peer in. They’re safe. And in a deep sleep under their comforters.
Today. I silently prepare for work. I shower. I shave. I dress. I grab my briefcase. I walk down the hall. My heavy footfalls ricochet off the hard wood floors and echo in their rooms. It’s early.
And it’s still dark out.
- He’s Gone.
- The Last Supper.
- If there is a God, he was here today…
- Rescue me…
- Reflections (Morn of Eric’s Graduation Day)
- Break away for 1 hour for one of life’s delights…