There are fleeting moments when I want to take a step with complete abandonment but then something holds me back.

Do not enjoy. Do not have fun. Do not be happy.

I did not have this strange feeling before my son died.

You could say I’m gun shy. Or I’m waiting for the other shoe to fall.

Something like that.

There’s one place in my heart that is not beating in rhythm with the rest of it. It’s just a small spot. But I’m always aware of it. Even when my mind is not thinking of what happened.

I’ve pulled away from certain parts of what once was. It’s like I have to have power over something. But it’s more that I cannot let that lost part of me connect.

Like a trampled flower reaching toward the sun for its daily bread.

It counts when life is still good.

Even when you aren’t walking in step.