she'd been feeling like she couldn't rub two good days together to save here life.
there'd be one--one good, passable, livable day.
followed by a rush in of three or four others. days that recalled an older time. a time well-passed, once-lived, and tremulously difficult.
but then there'd be another good one.
and so the cycle went.
and there were just enough good ones to make it all survivable, bearable, perfectly withstand-able.
but there was a sense of treading water. and while the pull of the waves seemed gentle and harmless with her head above peek-a-boo caps, she knew the rhythmic bob belied the actual pull.
the difficulty was, to keep her eyes on the horizon? or to give in? was there redemption to be found in surrendering to the undertow--would the very thing she feared get her to where she most needed to go?