The Letter. The Ink Well Prompt 79 : sinkhole
I need a cup of coffee.
I need a glass of wine.
I need time to sit and contemplate,
the vagaries that are mine.
The tiny rhyme sneaks into my thoughts. I’m so full of bustle, I’m brimming.
I need time to sit down and think about things properly. Something as important as this should not be rushed. It shouldn’t be brushed aside either. But I know that’s what I’m doing. I’ve been here before, I’ve faced the precipice of this sinkhole dozens of times before.
I procrastinate and fuss about it. I Bottle peaches, which takes an entire day.
I clean all the windows in my house, on a rainy day. Anything and everything to delay, put off, cheat time.
I think about you often, you’re on my mind.
I try not to think about you at all because it wrecks my brain.
I want you. I want you to be mine…
I avoid the decision. I ignore it . I play the waiting game. I’m afraid to look at it laying there on my coffee table with its official seal.
I don’t have enough time to chase away the thoughts of that letter while I dash around the room. I avoid it carefully, I try not to look. There’ve been letters before and they all looked the same. Of course I hope this one’s different. I hope it's not the same.
The process behind all the letters should’ve been so much fun. But it has been bitter and heartbreaking and, so often, fuel for my despair. Each new option, each little one, builds hope and fantasy. It sets my spirit free to imagine the possibilities, to make delightful plans of beaches and cotton candy and playgrounds and swings.
I scuttle and dust every surface in the room, only the coffee table remains untouched, but I can’t ignore it anymore.
My heart beats harder, my breath catches in my throat. I pick up the letter and hold it to my chest. Perhaps if I warm it up, I think to myself, perhaps then the news will be good.
I stand, rooted to the spot, my entire being aflutter. Time stands still. I’m terrified, I’m a coward, I just don’t know if I can go through the rejection again. I don’t want to sink, I want to swim. I want to swim with you. I want you so very, very much.
Finally, I tear the letter open. I do it clumsily and it resists, the tearing takes time.
The letter seems longer this time. My excitement rises and I swallow and try to push my adrenaline down. I’m shaking so badly that the paper very nearly falls to the ground.
I unfurl the sheets slowly and try to focus on the words.
We are pleased to inform you that your application has been approved…
Approved! Approved. My heart takes flight. I jig about the room. I sing the words to a sweet, sweet tune.
I extend the moment. I languish in the sensation.
Tomorrow you will be mine. I’ve been called to come and fetch you. I’m allowed to take you home and raise you as my own.
The adoption process for my Janie has come to a close. But, the adoption of Janie is a whole new and open page.
Find the prompt here
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