much like any other day i can be found planted at the scrapbook shoppe. but the day started with the final step in the completion of filing bankruptcy. something we both hated with the knowledge of no other choice.
we met at the designated location standing on the sidewalk, waiting for the little white haired man on the other side of the door, trying his best to unlock what seemed to be too much of a task. a bit of nervous laughter between us. time seemed to crawl. with the sound of the click as the door was opened we found ourselves shaking hands goodbye. it was over. the weight was lifted as husband and wife left to finish an otherwise uneventful day.
as i sat amongst my fellow scrappers laughing, double overed, eyes filled with tears because it was too funny, my cell rang.
with the remnants of laughter still in my voice i answer knowing its my husband. the laughter stopped. something in his voice silenced us all. was it the look on my face? was it the air of silence; his hesitation when i answered? my husband. i could feel his hurting throb in the emptiness between his words.
"kay? come home."
"what's wrong?" i ask going into automatic overdrive.
"you need to come home. kay?" the crack in his voice stabbs, piercing my heart, something caught in my throat. my head hurt.
i hear his breath shudder with pain. knowing he needs to feel something tangible.
"they laid me off. i don't have a job. kay? come home."
"i'm on my way. its going to be ok." hearing myself lie.
but i don't go home. rushing from my tools of creating scattered about i head for those who hurt my sweet husband. taking his fear with me. ready to assualt those who are evil.
reaching my destination to face those who have made a mistake; demanding an audience with the upper echelon who refuse to see me. to face me.
i pace. i rage inside. waiting for answers. demanding, yet again, for those guilty to appear and give credence. fear driving them to hide. with the truth of their mistake no one appears. they know i know its wrong.
i find myself on the curb of a building that had demanded more and more from a man i love so dearly. 33 years of pure innocent loyalty. knowing it was all for naught.
sobbing uncontrollably as the street traffic picks up there is a tap on my shoulder. i look up to see a box of tissues with an offering.
"you are in my prayers." and she walked back to the evilness she recognized as truth.