my family has always had these little traditions
such as eating together around the tv
or saying i love you before bed.
but what happens when these traditions start to change,
when the house becomes too big to keep us close together,
or when bed times don't exist because nobody seems to ever sleep.
it doesn't matter how much money was spent on counseling,
or how many ativans, zolofts and sleeping pills were popped,
nothing seemed to pull back the strings on the three puppets that were becoming more and more detached by the second.
the concept of money brought us together and pushed us apart,
the lack and the abundance,
the want and the need,
the ultimate destruction of our home.
our quiet home,
once full of laughter, love and emotion,
now an echoey cavern of aching memories that give me just the slightest bit of light to help me find my way.
what is the point of having these traditions,
if all they do is make everything sore to the touch at the memory of what once was,
and what will never be again.