every day

i wait for him to come home, evening after evening, warming cold dinner, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be

he’s overworked, fatigued, his words a mumble as he chews, his eyelids drooping

i nudge gently so he doesn’t choke, wondering why we live for holidays and not for every day.

years edge away, tucking in the months, like blankets around cold old toes

end 1/19/2017

S. Darlington