Wednesday, March 17, 2010

The desperate tears of my mom heard through the phone receiver shorten the distance between here and there. The tears are a side effect of healing, but this seems like an absurd notion. This short term fix will not stop more from pouring out of our eyes. Sorrow seems to be the fate du jour served to us. It is slowly snipping apart the threads that tie us together - genetics might not be enough once they're undone. Here I am, 921 and a half miles north. I should be there. What it means to be a member of a family seems to disintegrate when you're not there for the tough things. Like you somehow fail the test if you're not there to cry with them and then lift them from the shapeless heap on the floor.

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