Tonight--Tomorrow

I was angry. Angrier than I had been in a long time. And I should have been able to control the anger. But it kept resurfacing, which made me even more mad.

And the ones who kept getting the brunt of my anger didn't deserve it. Sure, they may have helped get me there, but they were young and unaware of how their actions and words had affected me.

So I shut the world out. I became blind to wrestling, fighting, and mess making. I became deaf to the yells and the questions. The questions that came like waves. Relentless, and always.

I cleaned. I knew that part of the anger was caused by my surroundings; the swarm of "stuff" that laid about like debris after an explosion. It encroached on me, and like cockroaches wriggled its way into my mind and fed on my anger. So I furiously banished it.

When my rage seemed to be extinguished, like I had control, I took my blinders down and focused, ready to finish out my day. But one found my switch, the one I thought I had finally hidden while I cleaned, and flipped it. And I felt the fury return, bubbling up and exploding out of my mouth, like lava, hot and deadly. And though I watched eyes turn wide and crystal, full of tears, I couldn't stop the flow that burned my mouth and their hearts.

The vomiting, angry torrent finally subsided, and I stood, and walked away, because I knew that was all I could do. I could fill the irrational rage still boiling inside of me. So I hid. And I danced.

I danced an overwhelmed, outraged dance. Twisting and rolling. Bouncing and throwing. Like I fought against gravity that threatened to pull me into the monstrous earth and swallow me whole. Trying to exhausted the anger. But it held strong, seeped into every crevasse and hardened so that if I ripped it out all that would be left was an empty hull.

I was defeated. As I gasped for air and my limbs and mind burned from exhaust, I knew I was defeated. So I raised, gave final instructions to eat then go to bed, and locked myself in my room where I could fester with my fury and hope to slowly dissolve it.

Then a knock came at my door and three littles entered. Carrying a plate of food, an I love you balloon, and the book that I had currently been reading. "We made you dinner in bed," they timidly said, not sure if they should smile or cower. And I felt it melt from my core outward. And as it began to seep out my eyes I miserably mumbled, "Thank you. This is very kind." Then they turned and were gone.

I sobbed while I ate. Big heaving, guilty sobs. But at the same time I was grateful, because I knew I had been blessed.

And while I know that I am not now, nor will ever be immuned to that anger which can creep in, at least tonight I can apologize, give hugs and kisses, and try again tomorrow.