Raining on the Inside

Everybody is always so terribly busy.

Work never slows down enough to allow me to catch my breath. I want some down time. Some time that we can talk. Some time for us. How did we get in this game? It seems that we never slow down, we never stop. I swear, we only get to relax for 15 minutes a day, then off we go again. Exaggeration? Not in my mind. It comes from peer pressure. Can’t we just be happy with what we have, what we are?

How do we always end up chasing things? If we keep chasing things, there will always be more to chase. I don’t want to live this way. But I always seem to get pulled along. Caught up in the never ending struggle to win, to get ahead. For what?

I work hard for the kids. They're adopted. We know it and they know it. There are no surprises. Adopted kids require a bigger investment of time and energy. Keeping them fed isn’t easy without your help. You said you would be here and you said that you would be involved. My sisters help us out. This is not what I wanted. I didn’t choose this.

I’m tired. I just want out.

I can’t seem to keep anyone happy anymore, not the kids, not you and not me. None of you need me. I shouldn’t measure myself like this but… It seems that’s who I am, doesn’t it? Always worried about someone else and never worried about myself. So, what happens when you have no one to worry about, and no one worries about you?

I'm going to go for a walk. I’ll be fine; you know me. A walk will clear my head. I won't be long. I won't go far. In fact, just a quick walk in the neighborhood. The path is clear; the cement shines bright white in the summer sun. Like me, it's bleak, and It's empty.

This is the first time, that I can recall, that I am walking just to be walking. It is a beautiful day; I don't want to waste it by rushing. I want to enjoy every minute of downtime. I don't have anywhere to go. I don't have any reason to stop either. I'll just keep strolling along.

The little boy is just ahead. He is always here when it isn’t raining. It’s not raining today. At least not on the outside. I see the magnifying glass in his hand. The bright beam of concentrated light hits the concrete. He is hunting. It seems cruel to see death from the hands of a child.

As I walk into his light, I become just one more dead ant.



As featured in "Short Stories Newsletter (June 22, 2016)" 


455 words