Join Us in Despair

You know when you were a kid and your diary was full of angst and woe-is-me-ness? That is what this blog is for. Lost your job, dog is sick, someone stole your parking spot, crashed your car, just generally glum? This is the place to put all that lovely grey and those long drawn out sighs.

Lists of sad songs. Depressing movie reviews. Top ten reason to stay in bed. All things not happy. Bring them here.

Are you sick, are you tired? Have you been sick & tired for a year? Share it here. Unhappy, gloomy, dismal, down in the dumps, miserable only. Did you have a bad day, a month... share. Not that tragedy and despair can't be funny, contributors are welcome to make their posts goofy, witty, laugh-out-loudable, just not happy or upbeat.

Would you like to be part of the DD&D project? Do you have a sad story, a rant, a poem of a lost love? Join us as a contributor.


Thursday, February 5, 2009

She's got the whole world in her hands...

I was crying, not the sobbing, moaning type but instead the silent scared kind of tears that slid down my cold red cheeks only to be frozen on my scarf which your beautiful little head was nuzzling into for warmth. We waited for the bus as the blizzard kept on, the freezing wind biting my cheeks as I did my best to shield you from the cold. After a while I gave up on waiting and began walking down Peterson Avenue in the direction of home stopping along the way as needed to put you, your diaper bag and my purse down in order to stretch my arms and back. You would look up at me scared and cold, demanding to be picked back up with your little arms reached out and your eyes pleading just above your little cherry nose. I move ungracefully in the 2 feet of snow and I no longer feel my toes but you nuzzle your face in the warmth of my neck and your runny nose takes my warmth as I make my way through the drift's of snow where the sidewalk once was. Eventually I stopped looking back for the bus, stopped hoping it would come and understood that I was on my own, you were completely in my hands and the sheer enormity of that brought fresh tears to my eyes as I kept on making my way home.

5 comments:

Laura Jayne said...

Wow... now this is powerful. As a mother, so can relate to this need to protect a child. My car broke down once in a rain storm (before cell phones). Walked a mile before a nice woman picked me and my baby up. But even then, the thought of getting in a stranger's car was daunting. Well written.

Diane said...

agreed, very well written!

Meena said...

scary and real

Cat said...

Thanks all!

Deynii Pepper (peeps.) said...

aww. wow.
that was like, bull's eye right there.