Left. A Story of Being Fed Up
The sun shined a silvery light, illuminating the faces of the mourners. There were no black umbrellas or tears. I want white dandelions when I die, I said without thinking much about it. His mother lay in the coffin among red roses. It was a rather festive scene.
Picture of my own
As I stand here by the window of our empty house, I cannot stop thinking about that moment, when my mother in law died. People go by as if I did not exist. Do they not see me, or do they and are just ignoring me?
He left the day before without saying a word. He cried all along. Huh! A victim for sure, a tortured soul. Men are like that. I wish this baby is a girl; enough of men. It kills me that Johnathan is going to grow up to be a liar and a cheater. Like father like son. Some things you just can’t help.
There he comes again. Should he stay now? I won’t speak a word to him. It’s just too painful.
I look him in the eye. He knows what I mean: hatred. He knows he did wrong; after so much we had been through, one day he just decided marriage did not suit him, kids did not suit him, let alone a new baby.
It is such a pathetic picture, he and his bouquet of dandelions, crying over my picture, the only thing left in the dead house.
Now he cries, and what about me? Oh, how I cried. But people don’t get it. “She went crazy the poor thing.” How could they know.
White dandelions for a dollar, cheaper than a box of condoms, cheaper than the plane ticket that was going to take him to her and away from me. Cheaper than my little bag of pills. Those flowers lie about everything.
Whatever becomes of Jonathan, I just hope he does better than those white dandelions.
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Link to the first image
Thanks for reading.
Posted from my blog with SteemPress : https://marlyncabrera.timeets.com/2018/12/18/left-a-story-of-being-fed-up/
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