Washed Ashore


On the advice of a friend, I need to write.

Tidal wave. It has felt like a tidal wave of ridiculousness lately. I could see it getting bigger and coming toward me but there was nothing I could do. I just closed my eyes and waited. Then I went to sleep. The baggage I carry around day after day is so very heavy. So when life happens, I get tired. And when real shit happens, I collapse. Then I retreat and wait for a friendly word, a smile, a sign that everything will indeed be okay.

I wish I didn’t have to carry all that. I wish the tidal waves didn’t come. I wish I didn’t have to remind myself each time that I’ll be okay because I always am. I’m just so very tired.

I stopped writing at this point last night when my daughter came home. She told me of a friend who was hiking in Colorado, fell off a cliff, and died. He was 19. One of the things that I keep playing over in my mind was when she said, “He was that kind of person that you knew would change the world. He was going to do something great.” I don’t pretend to understand why things happen the way they do. I just look around for a life jacket or a tree to hold on to and wait for the next wave.

I now think about this child’s mother and the devastation that she feels. My heart aches for her and the family and all of these young friends who question why bad things happen to good people. And I am washed ashore to rest for a bit. Perspective.


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