the jar

The jar sat mockingly at the end of the table waiting for her response.

Her mind went back and replayed every memory that haunted her. The reality of his presence is too rough to swallow so she disconnects the facts and makes them a distant dream. There is shredded paper all over the wooden frame in front of her but picking up an object to write the words down is too concrete. By writing down these memories and placing them in the jar she would be letting go of the only love she knew. Too much.

The rain falls outside and she wishes the water would drown her emotions. The window becomes unfocused from the fog as the gloom seeps through the cracks in the house. She was alone, as always, facing her biggest fear. Abandoning the pursuit of the comfort she had received for so long. The pen was in her hands and the ink spelled out all the pain he had caused, all the wrong he had done.

Guilt plagued her throughout the day as she would let her feet walk next to another. Replacement was never the goal, she is so caught up in what he thinks about it. To be treated with such respect is foreign and she dreams of a beautiful chapter with a beautiful ending.

Hours had passed and the rain began to spit from the clouds. The downpour had stopped and the glass of the window dismissed the blur. The jar still sat at the end of the table but had emptied itself of the mockery and began to show sympathy. Each paper was filled with so much pain and stained with so many tears. As soon as each slip was deposited into the top, the hurt was erased from her bag of burdens. The ache and misery became the jar's possession.

It's been a rough week but having a jar in the corner of my mind helps a little.