My Soul Speaks

She sobbed uncontrollably, her entire body racked with grief. Her sixteen year old daughter tried to comfort her by rubbing her back and whispering in her ear. I can’t even imagine how you begin to comfort someone who has just lost her soul for no good reason.

Tearing my eyes away from the sight so as to quell my own sadness, I looked across the room. The funeral had just begun, the casket lovingly carried down the aisle by his closest friends, and the family had been seated. As I wiped the tears off my wet cheeks, I had to look again. I’m not sure why I felt the urge to watch the mother and daughter like that.

Buried alive…nearly

I’m pretty good at a lot of things, none of which I can think of right now. But I’m almost sure that a person doesn’t get to be 30 and three quarters without learning some skills and practicing them until they’re mastered. Like, I’m sure there’s something I can do that some people can’t, or some type of party trick that would impress a crowd, or maybe I’m the best at doing one thing even if it’s menial and insignificant. There’s got to be something.