Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Tearful stains

Long, black lines of permanent marker stain the faux suede couch.  Each one - soaking in a white vinegar, dish soap, and water solution - resembles a drop of dew that sparkles on the grass in early morning light. 

One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.  Six.  Seven.  Eight.  How did Ezra get to an eighth mark before I noticed?  Russell's skype persona held my attention; Joey's funny antics amused; even, the flickering fireflies caught the corners of my eyes.  But, Ezra's guile alluded me!

Have you ever been so duped, friend, into enjoying a moment only to have it followed with long hours of work to make up for a grand mistake or painful heartache? 

I'll be carefully blotting marker stains late tonight, while savoring a moment to see my love's sweet face.  Tears may creep into the soft green cushion while I dab rubbing alcohol on the fading fringe Ezra drew, but my two-year-old's happy smile will mingle with that ache.  And, when a final rinse and brush reveal - prayerfully - a faded if not erased repetition of lines, then I will sigh and give a hearty laugh in conjunction with Joey's jovial humor.

Perhaps you, too, can smile or dare-say laugh amidst your strife today, friend?

1 comment:

  1. Even if those lines become scars that we must bear, the pain will fade quickly enough and we'll be left with a good story for those who visit and venture to sit in that place :). I love you, honey! I do hope the solution works!


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