The test, as it seems - is to continue on without the significance of knowing how I will get to my destination.
My broken dream needs mending once again.
The day began in a "sun's coming up later" kinda way. Sick little boy in the house who I had counted the minutes between coughs for the duration of eight and a half hours that he slept. By 9:22pm the night before, we were at every minute to minute and a half. 9:22pm was the last cough for quite a while. I guess the medicine had set in by that time. Poor little one. I tucked the blanket in around his neck and covered those little feet that hung out from below - hoping that he would be able to glean some rest from a very restless evening. The day following would be hard and we both knew that, though no one spoke it outloud.
The idea is to keep it from being spoken as long as we possibly can. So as to not invest any power or authority into the rantings of a lunatic that some of us (him) need to call "Dad". It doesn't always work out that way though. Often, I am as aware as he of the impending ridiculousness that seems to encompass our days, nights, evenings...every waking hour.
The elements that are most disconcerting are that the other side. The side that is passively protected, irritatingly enabled and ignorantly paraded through the motions of a legal forum. I have been heard to rant the "If I was Secretary of the Press, I would..." and "When I am President, I shall..." insights to personal inspirations - all with a commonality that sends the marauder packing with silence as his only friend. No baggage. No pillaging. And certainly, no speaking to further the propensity of ...just plain stupidity.
Why?
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