Writing Journal 11/01/18

It was her best idea. The only reasonable thing she could think of that would make it all hurt a little less. It wasn’t running away. It’s different, she tells herself, it’s getting distance. She needed to put a whole lot of land between her and it. It being not so much a someone that she’s running away from. Well, not running away, getting distance from. It’s more the memory that goes along with that someone. A memory of light, and love, and happiness. But that light burned out a long time ago, taking the love with it, and slowly seeping out the happiness, pulling it down into its ash filled crater.

So, her next best idea for getting distance is to pack the car and leave town. First she’d have to sort everything. Sort what is hers and whats not. Go through every room and take only what she couldn’t live without. Leave behind everything with a memory or anything that just sits there looking nice. Except for the broken clock her grandmother had given her, both memory and beauty but that could be forgiven. All things collected she piled them in bags and boxes, playing a brain game to get them all to fit together with no wasted space in the back of her car.

It’s for the best, she tells herself, waiting for the light to change. But when the light turns green she pauses for a moment, sitting at the last intersection between her life and the edge of town. She was born here, grew up here, fell in love for the first time here. Her first love didn’t last long, not like the last. Maybe getting distance won’t change that, but then again maybe it will. It was all she could think of, so why not give it a try? What’s the worst that could happen? A horn replied and her car bunny hopped, stalling. She turned the key,  turning over the engine, and then turned the wheel to curve off to the left, heading for the edge of town. The further out of town she got, the louder a voice whispered in the back of her mind, asking how much distance, growing to a heavy question of how far will be distance enough.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: