Honie Briggs

“I am a spirit on the waves,” she shouted.

Memories of her own childhood washed over her. She choked on them and laughed before she kissed each child on the forehead with her red painted lips.

“You are waves upon the sand,” she whispered.

“Okay, seriously, knock it off or else,” said a voice inside her head.

“Or else what?”

She set the children adrift and said a quiet prayer.

“It’s just like the story of Moses. Tomorrow there will be a parade in my honor.”

They washed up in the bay. No one was the wiser. Except the children.

*****

Life is happening all around us. Every day we have a chance to engage or escape. Some people have to escape. All we can do is forgive them and move on without them in our lives. It is a shame that abuse and neglect cause damage so severe that people lose the ability to function in the same reality as the rest of us. If you know someone struggling to overcome an abusive childhood, take a moment this Mother’s Day to let them know you are glad they are alive, because they may not have a mother who is.

This is a heavy post, but one I am certain I do not carry alone. Unwanted pregnancies too often turn into unwanted children. Becoming inflamed over a woman’s right to choose is a waste of good flame. There are living, breathing children everywhere who wish someone would care enough to keep them from becoming a statistic.

I have been an absentee blogger lately. Now that the semester is over and there is almost no box left behind  in The House That Humans Built, I hope to spend some time writing about what I have learned so far in my quest to become more smarter. And once and for all complete my book. It is a beautiful day in the neighborhood as the rain splashes onto my office window. As always, thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields @ Addicted to Purple for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Ads below my posts are still not endorsed by this blogger.

Thanks for reading.