Tidal Waves
Posted on October 1, 2013

Water swooshes towards my side of the room.
No windows. No doors. No way out.
I stand against the wall, waiting for the rush.
It slowly creeps up my neckline and rises up above my head.
I splash frantically, treading water, fighting the downward pull.
Dipping, then rising, then dipping again.
Gurgling, swallowing, spitting out water and bile.

The downward pull is too strong.
No matter how hard I swim, I begin to sink.
All the special moments of my life are clear before my eyes.
My daughter's toothy laughter. My son's puppy dog faces. My husband's sweet smile.
"I love you," he whispers to me, nestled under our bed sheets. 

The last few breaths of air find their way out of my lungs and float to the top.
I can’t fight the pull anymore.
I give up.
I say goodbye to my little girl, my baby boy, and the love of my life.
Please let this end.


My feet finally touch the ground.
The water drains, slowly, and eventually lowers below my chin.
My throat burns from puking and gasping for air.
I cry with agony.
Please, not again.

The water moves to the other side of the room, slowly rising against the far wall.
I only have a few seconds before it turns back my way.
No windows. No doors. No way out.
"Breathe," I say to myself. "Breathe, damn it!"  
It's not over.
Here it comes again.




2 comments:

  1. Wah-Ow.

    I'm not sure how to even comment on this, except to say, 'I understand.'

    ReplyDelete
  2. Know what you mean, Katie.
    Powerful. Very powerful. So expressive of that feeling. Wow!

    ReplyDelete


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