Another day

“The weekend is over.” I told myself this morning “And with it the memories of the past nine years.” I enjoy feeding myself lies, sometimes it works.

Last night I had a dream about her. I havent had a dream about her in nine years, ever since I asked her to please stop haunting me, and moved to the couch instead of the bed and never looked back. I don’t remember what the dream was, just that we were together and everything was alright in the world again.

Its an old technique I used to use on the kids, Molly, especially. Sticking them in the tub and not letting them out until their problems were gone. Under the water and out again – “Are you better?” sometimes I would be met with a scowl and other times a smile and a shake of the head – just so she could do it over again. Other times we would have to work harder at it and “Scrub them away” instead of simply rinsing them off but whatever the way – they weren’t aloud to leave the tub until their troubles went down the drain.

Obviously it didn’t work for real issues, but for the stupid things that got us all off guard it helped to reset the moment.

It didn’t work with me this morning, but I refuse to let my problems take me down another day. Just because the weekend is gone doesn’t mean everything else has gone with it. Just because I stayed in the shower extra long wishing to see things float down the drain doesn’t mean my problems are magically cured.

But I refuse to give them another day.

Today. After all. Is a new day.

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