pain lancing my chest,
tears blinding me as I tackled a mound of dirty dishes.
Exhaustion weighed heavy,
my arms like stone.
I was alone, disconnected
I could almost see the knife
piercing my heart.
There was a name on the handle;
I strained my inner eye,
expecting to see my husband’s name carved in the wood
I could not force the letters to spell his name.
The etched letters
clearly spelled Melanie.
My eyes widened,
I literally gasped in shock.
dissolving the knife and the sharp pain with it into insubstantial mist.
I was the architect of my misery,
a dramatic self-made victim,
acting like a pitiful scapegoat.
Reality made me smile.
An inner switch flipped.
Misery slipped off like useless rags
The mountain of work thrown into the sea by a mustard seed of common sense because there was no mountain except in my self-pitying delusions of martyred grandeur.
Cutting through Stress.
A Strange Calm.