Splintered Thoughts
A tiny sliver of something dark lies embedded in the tip of my left middle finger, unnoticed until this morning, though it must have been waiting there for at least a few days. Now, it takes up most of my attention, as I worry at it, poking my fingernails beneath in, attempting to dislodge the painful bit from my body.
It occurs to me, as I prod and poke away, that this time of year brings me splintered thoughts. My dreams are scattered with images of Robbie. I used to dream of him as a child: infectious smile, chubby cheeks, soft hair falling over dark eyes and black brows, chasing his sister around on his short, sturdy legs. This year, as the fateful day in May approaches, he is nearly grown when I dream. I catch only glimpses of him as I sleep, from the side or as he moves down a hallway. There are brief peripheral sightings: his infectious smile, broad shoulders, strong jawline, short dark hair framing those beautiful dark eyes and brows.
My days and nights this time of year have my mind swirling with memories and never-ies. I watch my nephews growing into men, older now than Robbie reached, see their faces and bodies change, and I smile and cry, one thought and another fighting for hold in my mind. 'R.A.S. R.I.P.' taped on the helmet of one nephew. Stories shared, told to others, but passed along to me. I wish they would share with me, but I understand. Nobody wants to hurt me, to make me miss him more. As if...and another splintering of thought begins.
It occurs to me, as I prod and poke away, that this time of year brings me splintered thoughts. My dreams are scattered with images of Robbie. I used to dream of him as a child: infectious smile, chubby cheeks, soft hair falling over dark eyes and black brows, chasing his sister around on his short, sturdy legs. This year, as the fateful day in May approaches, he is nearly grown when I dream. I catch only glimpses of him as I sleep, from the side or as he moves down a hallway. There are brief peripheral sightings: his infectious smile, broad shoulders, strong jawline, short dark hair framing those beautiful dark eyes and brows.
My days and nights this time of year have my mind swirling with memories and never-ies. I watch my nephews growing into men, older now than Robbie reached, see their faces and bodies change, and I smile and cry, one thought and another fighting for hold in my mind. 'R.A.S. R.I.P.' taped on the helmet of one nephew. Stories shared, told to others, but passed along to me. I wish they would share with me, but I understand. Nobody wants to hurt me, to make me miss him more. As if...and another splintering of thought begins.
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