I pushed it down all week. Deep inside I shoved the words. I ran from the image. Several time it seized my thoughts, but I shoved it away with the power of distraction. Until today. I am alone. The ride home from work. No one to distract. No tv or Facebook. No demanding cries. The radio can't seem to play loud enough.
Wailing escapes and my defense crumbles. The memories triggered. The brakes and the crunching. The goodbye I cant escape. The little one I cannot find.
The lawyers have been to visit the impounded cars again this week. She said she could not help but cry when she looked inside. Shattered windows. Cobwebs now growing. But they are still there. Her pink sparkly flip flops. The ones she wore that day. A sign of my princess and her life and glittering love. Now sitting in the mass of tangled metal and mildew.
A reflection of this journey. Here sit nuggets of beauty and brightness and sparkle of life. But nestled in such messy brokenness. In such a crumpled wad of death.
Now parked. I drop my head and clutch the steering wheel. Quieting the torrent. I say I am sorry to the little one listening now inside me. Then I hear the words springing from my dashboard. "... So cry out to Jesus." Again and again he sings it. Pointing me to the way I should go. Another glimmer in the mess. I call and cling. Desperate for more than a glimmer.
Wailing escapes and my defense crumbles. The memories triggered. The brakes and the crunching. The goodbye I cant escape. The little one I cannot find.
The lawyers have been to visit the impounded cars again this week. She said she could not help but cry when she looked inside. Shattered windows. Cobwebs now growing. But they are still there. Her pink sparkly flip flops. The ones she wore that day. A sign of my princess and her life and glittering love. Now sitting in the mass of tangled metal and mildew.
A reflection of this journey. Here sit nuggets of beauty and brightness and sparkle of life. But nestled in such messy brokenness. In such a crumpled wad of death.
Now parked. I drop my head and clutch the steering wheel. Quieting the torrent. I say I am sorry to the little one listening now inside me. Then I hear the words springing from my dashboard. "... So cry out to Jesus." Again and again he sings it. Pointing me to the way I should go. Another glimmer in the mess. I call and cling. Desperate for more than a glimmer.
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