Stair-Climber

She regretted the bell straight away

as it allowed the

meek man she’d married to become the

tyrant of the sick-room, the

bed where her long-fled children were

conceived now barricaded by

bottles of air and tubes and

…stuff, and her relegated to the

second-best bed while her

life was reduced to

negociator with debtors,

purchaser of medicines,

specialist cook and

unspecialist washer-up, bringer of

needlessly forgotten things, a

stair-climber.

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Comments

  • Kenia Cris  On November 2, 2011 at 11:57 pm

    Sometimes I think I fear marriage because of fairy tales and ‘happy ever after’ – real life is nothing like that in the end. The realism in your words made me think about it again. ❤

  • Leah  On November 11, 2011 at 2:13 pm

    How tired you must be.

  • Linda Munn  On November 20, 2011 at 12:17 am

    You hit that nail right on the head, but you do what you need to do. Mine wasn’t a bell but a yelling of my name, now I wish I could not have resented being at his beck and call all the time. He needed me.

Trackbacks

  • By #464 « Crooked Little Girl on December 22, 2011 at 3:34 pm

    […] about the empty spaces when you’re gone, and the unsettling silence left behind. (To Steve F.) (image by Lothar Adamczyk) LD_AddCustomAttr("AdOpt", "1"); LD_AddCustomAttr("Origin", […]

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