If the tongue can be mightier, sharper than the sword; then its also true that being ignored can be the most deafening silence in the world. I sit here angelically, my halo slightly askew, knowing that my words while bitter and cutting were necessary to save someone else from a terrible mistake. My nobility is only equal to my longing to call him back and beg him to forgive me for pushing him away...to hold on and die in his arms. But that would defeat the entire sacrifice that I made out of my love for him. I didn't play a martyr. I just did the right thing. I know that but he never will forgive me for breaking his heart and I will never stop missing him. I've cried a river of tears. Still the tears keep flowing abundantly, outlasting the twelve days of rain that are causing flooding in Texas. I will drown soon in my own grief. Mermaids are supposed to survive the depths. But this one is just barely floating on the surface and has become terrified of exploring the briney mysteries that once were so fascinating. I'm nocturnal like most people born in the afternoon and I do so love the Winter as it heralds my birthday just before the Holidays ensue. It's not unusual for me to be awake at 4:42 am. By now I've written another chapter non stop inhaling a ham and cheese sandwich munching on cheetos that I never even tasted. But it's not an ordinary day. Tonight I couldn't concentrate. The pages were empty as I stared at a blank screen. I am not surprised to see the others who have just joined this group are also night owls. I think most writers find peace at this hour without ringing phones and screaming children to distract them... But even if I weren't a writer, used to gleaning my creativity in the wee hours, tonight I would be wide awake. Screaming silently, Listening to the raindrops pounding softly in rythymn to my tired heart, beating a slow thump against a tin roof. I just nuked my only vice...hot cocoa and I'm sipping it from a cobalt blue mug my hubby gave me almost 20 years ago. Its the only one left in a set of eight, from countless moves to follow his career. It's survived curious cats, nosy mother in laws, teeny boppers and all thier friends, the in-laws and out-laws that slept on our sofa, all the times that it's been packed in storage or tossed in a box and ridden hundreds of miles over bumpy roads. It was resiliant, never cracked. It's still beautiful. Unmarked, except by the permanant stain inside the cup that no amount of washing ever erases. Did you know that cocoa scars porcelain just like coffee does? Well I guess after all these years it was bound to have some flaw. It's rather fitting that it's the ony one left sinc I am too and one is all I need. All the babies grew up and have babies of their own or their working on it. :) They are all over the world. My nest is too empty. Even the cat is lonely. She gazes as wistfully out the window as I do. I'm not one for self-pity. I'm Mommy. The practial one. The lifegiver and nurturer of the masses. Even my parents call me Mama. HE was the one person who didn't need a mommy. My best friend. The only ear I told my secrets to. Unlike my books where I purge the darker remnants of my soul, his smile fed me hope and made me ache to dance and giggle like a child again... I miss him so much... Even as I strive to smile bravely through the tears, staring at his photo that I still can't bear to throw away, even though I know he is gone forever from my life...that even if I reached out, he would just push me away, I know I did the right thing. But that doesnt make me miss him any less...or wonder if he's laying awake too, listening to the rain...thinking of me. Copyright © 2003 by Darlene Purcell All rights reserved.