The Colors Of Your Life
Hope for the future, and there is no color to describe it.
You’re scanning your eyes viciously around the park. No one seems to notice the panic that surrounds you though. Not the couple pushing their own toddler on the swings a few feet away, not the kids hanging from the monkey bars, and not even the elderly man feeding the pigeons across the pond as a little boy watches in amusement. Oh shit. That’s your little boy!
A wave of relief passes over you as exhale loudly, leaving behind all your belongings on the bench to go fetch him. You’re angry at him for wandering off like that but you’re more angry at yourself for letting him…
Lecturing him the way home you’re fully aware that your words are most likely going right over his head but you feel the need to say them anyway. If anything had ever happened to him, you’d never be able to live with it.
He’s your child. Your flesh and blood. You love him more then you love yourself. Every sacrifice you make its for him, for him and his sister. They’re the only reason why you get up in the morning. Why you keep playing this game of life even though the only cards you’re ever dealt are losing ones.
One day he’ll understand. One day he’ll have kids of his own and he’s not going to abandon them. You will teach him better. You may not be able to give him much in life, but that you can. It’s your gift to him.
You can hear the phone ringing as you fumble with the keys in the lock. You can smell the baby needs to be changed and your son is practically hanging on your leg in exhaustion and although its probably a bill collector you answer it anyways on the fifth ring after you walk in.
You can barely believe the voice on the other end. It’s about your application. They have a position open. They don’t care that you’re nineteen. They don’t care that you have two kids and no car. They don’t care about anything except the fact that you have two hands and are able to work a register with out breaking it.
The pay is slightly more then your old job, just a few cents more but even if it was less you would take it. Hell you would take it even if they paid you in peanut butter and formula.
And they want you to start tomorrow.
You hang up the phone and suddenly your apartment looks different. You can still smell the baby awaiting her diaper change, and your son is still pouting in the corner attempting to remove his coat as he tired of waiting for you to do it. The fridge is still nearly empty and the dirty dishes from the morning are still waiting in the sink to be washed but its okay. Everything is going to be okay now. You have hope.
Hope for the future, and there is no color to describe it.
A wave of relief passes over you as exhale loudly, leaving behind all your belongings on the bench to go fetch him. You’re angry at him for wandering off like that but you’re more angry at yourself for letting him…
Lecturing him the way home you’re fully aware that your words are most likely going right over his head but you feel the need to say them anyway. If anything had ever happened to him, you’d never be able to live with it.
He’s your child. Your flesh and blood. You love him more then you love yourself. Every sacrifice you make its for him, for him and his sister. They’re the only reason why you get up in the morning. Why you keep playing this game of life even though the only cards you’re ever dealt are losing ones.
One day he’ll understand. One day he’ll have kids of his own and he’s not going to abandon them. You will teach him better. You may not be able to give him much in life, but that you can. It’s your gift to him.
You can hear the phone ringing as you fumble with the keys in the lock. You can smell the baby needs to be changed and your son is practically hanging on your leg in exhaustion and although its probably a bill collector you answer it anyways on the fifth ring after you walk in.
You can barely believe the voice on the other end. It’s about your application. They have a position open. They don’t care that you’re nineteen. They don’t care that you have two kids and no car. They don’t care about anything except the fact that you have two hands and are able to work a register with out breaking it.
The pay is slightly more then your old job, just a few cents more but even if it was less you would take it. Hell you would take it even if they paid you in peanut butter and formula.
And they want you to start tomorrow.
You hang up the phone and suddenly your apartment looks different. You can still smell the baby awaiting her diaper change, and your son is still pouting in the corner attempting to remove his coat as he tired of waiting for you to do it. The fridge is still nearly empty and the dirty dishes from the morning are still waiting in the sink to be washed but its okay. Everything is going to be okay now. You have hope.
Hope for the future, and there is no color to describe it.