I couldn't even pack the car to the top. I had to leave room for the baby. And the cats. (cats, unlike dogs, are not generally fond of car rides. I have the scars to prove it.)
Maybe there was time to think more carefully. To choose what to keep and and what to leave more thoughroughly. It didn't feel like it though. All I felt was an ever increasing sense of panic, as if rabid wolves were nipping at my heels. The pounding of blood in my ears interrupting all waves of thought.
Fleetingly, I said good bye. I took my baby, took my cats, grabbed a Tims, and headed west.
I stopped on the side of the road to sleep. Nursed my baby in gas station parking lots. Discussed with waitresses in elaborate detail the ingredients and preparation of every menu item that I thought may be suitable for our lengthy list of allergies. Washed and sanitized my hands until they were cracked and raw.
Another thing cats don't like, by the way, are motel rooms. But I was grateful for a quiet, warm place to hold my baby safely, knowing that every kilometer brought us further away from the unspeakable dangers that hunted us. Closer to the place I once called home.
3 days on the road. 3 days of weeping, singing, cursing, searching, fleeing. 3 days of solitude (well, not quite. But in a car, cats are not great company or comfort.) And I couldn't unload my hurt, guilt, fear and lonliness on my baby girl. She lost...
Oh little sock
we must have a talk
of where you're supposed to be
my OCD won't let me be
and give your mate
an unmatched date
What a disaster that'd be!
A little taste of Autumn
Cuz Autumn, she tastes so sweet
Her heady fragrance consumes me
Her foliage crunched beneath my feet
Little by little she undresses
Seductive bits of golden red...
how blessed are we, the artists, who travel otherworldly into our souls