My daughter called today crying, and said
"I miss you daddy, when are you moving closer?"
Any other day
I would just tell her "I'll be there soon, baby"
but those words seized up in my throat
and refused to pour from my lips
On most days, I would tell her
"Baby, Sometimes you have lay the foundation,
before you can build the house" and her
sleeping on the floor and giving me her bed to sleep in
or giving me the 5 dollars that she had saved from her allowance
isn't a viable option (though a heart like her's makes a father proud)
but today
Today I was three seconds
from melting down, the process
signaled by tears that formed like lava
quiet pools meant to renew, gathering at the corners
of these weathered eyes, and it took all the strength I had
not to curl up in the fetal position and close my eyes
until the world turned black
I held everything inside for a few moments longer
just long enough to let her know
that I love her and to say goodbye
I realized at that moment that I had waged this war far too long
and losing a battle like this was not the end of the world, so today
I held up a white flag in surrender, and gave in
There's something about crying, it's like hitting the reset button
it buys you a few more days before the next breakdown
before the next time life tries to break you
So I cried in my car, alone....
*because today she needed to see strength
and not the cracks in my armor.
Sorry to those of you that read this earlier. It felt unfinished.
Now it just feels unpolished and like prose or a rambling of thoughts.
Thanks for being patient through my processing.