Write It Out: Instruction Video
“Augusta went into the bathroom and washed her face with cold water; she soaked a facecloth with water and wiped the sweat from the back of her neck, from between her breasts, under her arms, behind her knees. She put on a fresh dress and went back into the coolness of the sitting room to watch television from her chair next to Karl’s. Once there she tried to ignore him, to keep a stony silence, but her anger didn’t last; it drained away. She forgave him his inadequacies, just as he had forgiven hers so many times in the past, because Karl, resourceful as all farmers were, found a way to say the things he wished he had said over the years, all the things he had been unable to say. It wasn’t much: a simple gesture he had been planning for a day or two, a message contained in flowers. He handed Augusta a bouquet tied in ribbon that he had hidden beside his chair: a clutch of pearly everlastings with white wooly stems, and flowers that would last until the first snows of winter.”
***
The fatigue.
Pushing against it, fighting it,
Futile.
Why not accept it
for now –
embrace it, welcome it.
Because, my dear, I may
disappear
even deeper, further,
entirely.
And, it’s not me –
I am lightness and laughter and love –
this is not me.
Yet it crushes, it buries.
***
Winter solstice. Endings, and beginnings. What is ending for you, and what is beginning? Share your thoughts here!
