Toad The Wet Sprocket – Walk On The Ocean
The first day slip sliding down depression’s narrow throat. It’s not a warning. I’ve seen the red flags. I know that I’ve side glanced at them like a primitive wary of incurring the wrath of an ancient god. If you clothe the baby like a girl the demons won’t steal it away. I’ve clothed my unease in activity.
I got back in bed my head heavy my eyes labored. My chest is burdened with the thought that I won’t be able to stay here. All the positive talk of leaving and change being a good thing has done nothing to touch the fear of the future and the sadness of the past’s obliteration. Today I will leave the house I think, the beauty of the ocean will not be here for me much longer. What should I do? What will I do? So I come online and escape reality, writing of the present. I promise myself I will walk to the ocean. It’s what my Mother would do. My father would sit in his easy chair and drink himself into rage or petulance. He’d make himself unwittingly into a stormy sea.
So today, unlike yesterday I will pry myself out of this house. I will make myself do something meaningful. I won’t cry if I can help it. I will make this a celebration of all that is unique about my childhood home and my parents’ pride. I dare me.