I was there when you had your second miscarriage. I was a sunny day. Nick was running errands. But you weren't alone. I was there and I witnessed how painful it was.
Since that day euclyptus hangs from me. The same euclyptus from your mother's funeral bouquet.
I remember when you first moved in and set up a tripod in the bedroom. You and Nick held each other and smiled while the camera captured a few moments. That was before the miscarraige and the births of Noah and Elijah.
Now I hold silence for the baby to sleep while you and Nick unwind from the day or when Noah runs from room to room.
I'm kept closed most of the day but when I'm open I enjoy the human touch and watching each of you walk back and forth past me.
I know there are several versions of me throughout the home but I feel I protect the bext room in the house.
I wrote the above as a writing exercise from a workbook I’m using to help me write my book. The workbook is by Beth Kephart, titled “Tell the Truth. Make it Matter.”. It’s funny, like Beth mentions in the workbook, how writing in the voice of something that is not me actually forces me from the shadows. More exercises and writing to come...