The Colors Of Your Life
Naivety was once your name, and your color was white.
The walk home is just daunting then the one there was. Even more so as you balance the baby on your hip, the single bag of groceries swinging between you and your son as you walk.
The apples remained behind and your son unable to finish the candy bar is now handing it to you. With a little bit of shuffling you’re able to fold the wet and soggy wrapper around the remaining chocolate before stupidly stuffing it into your jacket pocket as there was no where else to put it.
Upon entering the apartment building you call home, three flights of stairs await you and your son wishes you to carry him up them but you can not as your arms are full. His feet are wet and most likely cold, and he is tired as are you.
You find yourself making phony promises of what lies ahead as you strain to drag him up them with one hand, hating what you have become. Remembering back on the life you once had, the girl you once were. It seemed so long ago, and hindsight is always 20/20.
You manage to get inside and lay the baby back down in her playpen before turning your attention to your son. Removing his coat swiftly you pick him up and carry him to the kitchen counter to wash the mess of chocolate from his hands and tiny face.
He scrunches away from the wet rag on his skin and you strain to hold him still running your eyes along his features. He looks so much like his father it hurts…
As a cruel twist of fate your son is blessed with the same bluish grey eyes as him, so you get the joy of looking at them everyday. A permanent reminder of the past staring at you every single day…
Everyone said you were such a lucky girl…The first time he held your hand, it was so sweet it made your lips pucker. And the first time he kissed your puckered lips you were hooked. Only fifteen years old the world seemed like such a magical place, unlimited opportunities awaited and you wanted to taste them all.
A lucky girl indeed, you did not mind when his hands wandered up under your dress. He loved you. He said so. He said it in the way he held your hand, he said it in the sweet whispers in your ear as you would talk for hours on the phone before bed every night. He said it in the crappy homemade valentine he gave you on your six week anniversary. He even said it in the backseat of his car that night…
Naivety was once your name, and your color was white.
The apples remained behind and your son unable to finish the candy bar is now handing it to you. With a little bit of shuffling you’re able to fold the wet and soggy wrapper around the remaining chocolate before stupidly stuffing it into your jacket pocket as there was no where else to put it.
Upon entering the apartment building you call home, three flights of stairs await you and your son wishes you to carry him up them but you can not as your arms are full. His feet are wet and most likely cold, and he is tired as are you.
You find yourself making phony promises of what lies ahead as you strain to drag him up them with one hand, hating what you have become. Remembering back on the life you once had, the girl you once were. It seemed so long ago, and hindsight is always 20/20.
You manage to get inside and lay the baby back down in her playpen before turning your attention to your son. Removing his coat swiftly you pick him up and carry him to the kitchen counter to wash the mess of chocolate from his hands and tiny face.
He scrunches away from the wet rag on his skin and you strain to hold him still running your eyes along his features. He looks so much like his father it hurts…
As a cruel twist of fate your son is blessed with the same bluish grey eyes as him, so you get the joy of looking at them everyday. A permanent reminder of the past staring at you every single day…
Everyone said you were such a lucky girl…The first time he held your hand, it was so sweet it made your lips pucker. And the first time he kissed your puckered lips you were hooked. Only fifteen years old the world seemed like such a magical place, unlimited opportunities awaited and you wanted to taste them all.
A lucky girl indeed, you did not mind when his hands wandered up under your dress. He loved you. He said so. He said it in the way he held your hand, he said it in the sweet whispers in your ear as you would talk for hours on the phone before bed every night. He said it in the crappy homemade valentine he gave you on your six week anniversary. He even said it in the backseat of his car that night…
Naivety was once your name, and your color was white.