The today litany, gateway to tomorrow, paralyzed me. I wasn't the deer in the headlights. I was the headlights.
And when all the little people fell sweetly asleep, grimy and contented, I remembered.
Until my fist clenched at my purse, screaming something angry about scarcity, as I softly ascertained after-hours plumbers' fees. I wanted to call my mom. My heart, gripped, constrained. tight tight tight. My brain scans for an answer. I feel a dull ache. I try to think about the end of the Easter season.
I will prepare documents for hand-delivery tomorrow before jury duty. Contentment glows from upstairs. The sun kept shining.
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