And so they left.

Trying not to feel that achy, scratchy, scrape of need inside, a long walk in the wet meadow with an overflowing creek helped center the internal chaos. Once returning inside to an all quiet house the hollow hole opened again, but not consuming me like it once did eating me alive… a feeling trying desperately to run from.

“Do you feel it,” I ask Samuel once again, hardly believing it is only me.

“No,” he said, adding, “You think about it too much.”

“It’s not a thought,” I said, perturbed, “It is a feeling…it hurts.”

Calling a friend, more tears come, bringing needed relief, more relief than trying to talk to a wall like Samuel. My friend reminds me I am a good person, artistic, a sensitive soul, and that helps me feel less odd, more human. Why this ache every time Cory visits then leaves? And Samuel escapes without it?

By evening acceptance rolls in like gentle waves, the ache lessons. A skype call from Cory helps, letting me know he, his wife, and tiny blondie daughter arrived safely after a long day of traveling to the near-by state where they live. It is quiet here without the little patter of running footsteps, her giggles, and happy songs.

But Cory looks tired. He has a life, family, and job, what mother wouldn’t be happy, yet there is that ache. If only he lived closer, but this is the way it is.

4 thoughts on “FEELINGS

  1. I so feel the yearing of a mother’s soul. I havent seen my own mother in six years. A mother myself, I can only imagine how it will hurt the day he leaves home. Your feelings are valid. ♡

    Liked by 1 person

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