By Sarah O’Brien
His greying ears flick as flies attempt to land. A nose once moist, is now cracked and dry. Parched he lies there, waiting to die and we wait with him, not knowing how to make the time pass more pleasantly for either of us. One eye sunken, in sharp relief, his breath rank, jaw drooling, reminding us all of the penalty of old age.
But I can’t hold him now. Soon he will be gone and a part of us along with him. Eight year old memories trapped forever in time,with a life that a family was founded upon and the son she bore. His brown and white body always so lithe and strong lays awkwardly now, shallow breaths come slower. Eyes that if on a human, I would say crinkle at the edges when he smiles, yet he doesn’t smile-he lies waiting and we with him, waiting, waiting for him to die. Continue reading
By Sarah O’Brien
The road ahead looks perilous. It’s steep descents and winding streets loom, in the near distance. A fear of what I can not know lays upon me, like a thick layer of moor-side fog and I sit there, warmed only by the embraces of my thoughts. Cannot, why’s and maybe’s swell from my chest and I’m fighting, to quell it’s striking, ringing, choking grasp on my senses.
It’s quiet now and all is well, for the moment. Tired eyes scrunch up, shading from the gaze of the sun and breakfast comes. The pitter-patter and creaks, up the stairs hold me, guessing which as every step leads me, lost in my thoughts and memories. Early September mornings bring with them the smell of dawn and dew on the grass. Hoover sounds ring in my ears and yet they sleep, contented. Continue reading