I stayed up all night working on a sociology paper. What with the stress of school, and the busyness of Thanksgiving I've been too hard pressed to take the time. I've been too rushed to sit, to contemplate, to remember, and to pray.
Stop.
I saw a cat get hit by a car today.
Stop.
It ran away. I don't know what happened to it.
Stop.
I am on my way out the door right now. My hair and makeup are done, my skirt is flowing, and my heels are high.
Stop.
My great uncle died a few days ago. Uncle Ted had been sick for a while now, going from bad to better to worse to dead. And now he is gone. How does someone just go away? Where're ya stain' Ted?
Stop.
On the sidewalk there are paw prints, hardened in the cement. I pass them every day as I walk the same route continuously. I never can walk right over them, each time I imagine the owner of such prints which walked through the fresh cement, leaving such graphic, material evidence.
There are now only pictures and memories and mascara stains on rosy cheeks.
Hush.
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