He Took Me Home On Friday

 

me crying, he feeling badly. he'd had a really bad day on Friday
and lost his temper to the point where i curled up in a ball on his
bed and cried because i was frightened. he slammed his fist into
his closet door, screamed at his mom and daughter and i asked
him to take me home.

i tried to explain to him that i can't be responsible for his moods,
for anyone's mood but my own. he said he understood.

i asked him, "how many more good things are you going to watch
walk out of your life before you realize that you need to do something
about your rage?"

"good question," he replied.

he gave me my apartment key back.

i cried the whole time it took to drive from Attalla to Gadsden.

"i don't want to do this, " i told him, "but i can't go through this.
i'm not perfect and someday i'm going to piss you off and you'll
get angry at me. i couldn't stand to be talked to the way you talk
to your mom and daughter."

he showed up at my door last night just after midnight.

"hi, glenn," i smiled.

i don't dare say how much i missed him.

i whispered to him, "was there a big hole in you
where i used to be the way there was in me where
you used to be?"

"yes."

and he rocked me all night long.

and then again this morning.

and if it's not love i feel, it's still something special and warm and
wonderful.

and he told me he'd cried because i was gone.

i don't know why i'm in his life. i do believe we're put into other
people's lives for a reason. but i know why he's in mine.

and my life is made up of moments, some good, some bad.
they all pass. all of them. the good and the bad. i'm not going
to wait for my life to become wonderful. it probably never will.
it will continue to be made up of moments, brief and fleeting,
good and bad.

i'll live for the good moments, cherish them, and live through the
bad.

denise

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