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That’s the hardest part

Picking through the rubble to find scraps of once-yellow note pad paper written and abruptly, rudely, ended:

Toilet paper

Apples

Erasers

8 batteries

Trash bags

Birthday card for —

The hardest heart catches itself before it does what it made to do: lie or die. (And flower and a cake for –)

Again with the ending. Before the card, there was snow. Glowing snow but the ice was  better. You’d sprayed painted it gold and silver and a tie dye of the other primary colors , which ran and pooled at our feet. The flakes and shards died a hued death.

Still the ending.standing at the top of a great mound that once was not a welcome to the White Ones.

They welcome you. The hardest part, you accept.

There’s no way to avoid life’s cruel, incessant lashings. Here’s what you do when difficult times descend:

• You carefully examine the rubble of your cookies. Your immediate thought is that you could never overcome this woeful obstacle.
• You put the cookies out of your sight for 35 seconds.
• You can’t get the cookies out of your mind. Your immediate thought is this is an unacceptable position to be in and dammit, you’re a strong woman who’s over come unexpected cracker crumbles and apple mush.
• You search your mind and soul.
• Endless time passes. Perhaps upwards of 15 seconds.
• And then. Your eye catches the box of tissue on the corner of your desk.
• You take your package back out and excitedly dump the destruction of your cookies on your tissue.
• You pick through the rubble and eat what you can, savoring every sweet bite.
• You say, “fuck the rest” and expertly through the tissue and cookie grains away. You don’t need that shit. Now you can get back to the full-fledged, good-time cookies still waiting for you.

SOB with me

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