SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Woodstove - Wednesday, Dec. 05, 2018
Career - Monday, Dec. 03, 2018
The Lamp - Tuesday, Nov. 27, 2018
Message - Monday, Nov. 26, 2018
Joffre - Friday, Nov. 23, 2018


Wednesday, Dec. 05, 2018 @ 9:58 am
Woodstove



I lay around in a fog. Lonely. Sad.

I stare at my phone, willing it to vibrate with a message. Someone. Anyone.

I prepare dinner. Daniel is late. An hour goes by. I put the food in the oven to keep warm. Another hour goes by.

He walks in the door, and I look up at him with reproach.

He goes into a tirade of defense. "It's one time." "You used to always be late."

He marches over to the woodstove. "Why did you put that big log in there?"

He opens the door and aggressively shoves the pieces of wood around to meet his specifications.

"You can't put big pieces in until the fire is hot. I TOLD YOU THIS YESTERDAY. Why did you do this?"

I stare at him. I realize that this is the way that I've taught him to treat me. I'm a doormat. I'm angry at myself, at him for abusing my soft nature.

"I said OK," I respond. "Please don't talk to me like that. The sarcasm is not helpful"

He is silent.

I serve the food. A peace offering. I ask about his day. He unloads on me for two hours, and I ask thoughtul questions and empathize.

The night ends, and I go to bed.

He never asked me about my day.

I am invisible and alone.


Roots | Shoots