Lost Compass

 

I’m back. I guess that’s silly. I’ve been here…just not always here here.

This was written for Carrot Ranch, into the dark.

Lost Compass (99 words)

The rainy days are the easiest. I turn over, pretend the sun hasn’t risen, the day hasn’t begun, except for the hum of traffic, mocking in its ocean-like rhythm.

At work, I cajole, pretend. At home, I sink, obsess over regrets that lure me into the dark, driving me to ask how did I get here?

When I was little, my granny would open a can of tuna. I’d eat the flakes from the can while she mentored. “You can be and do anything you want.”

Molten desire. Wrong road. Answered naïve prayer.

Gran, I let us both down.

end

5 thoughts on “Lost Compass

  1. Wow, that piece of memory embedded between despair and guilt is magnificent, Sascha. A painful flash, yet beautifully written. And welcome back to here, here.

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