A Piece Within the Novel– Stream of Consciousness

imagesCAQ3TW8LDriving to work on a Monday morning, my body is in auto-pilot whilst my mind is meandering from room to room looking for the next big fix to get me back into the life-space of all the other souls—the ones that sit next to me at work—the ones that stand behind me in the queue at the post office—the ones that seem to be going out to the park with their kids every weekend and seem to be so jolly-happy all the time. Meandering within the catacombs, the vaults, the chambers—whatever they are—in my head to find where it all went so incredibly dark.
There was trust there, once upon a time, lying in the sun with someone who had my best interests at heart. That one-time-ago place that sends us into reverie of “whatshouldhavebeens” that keeps us from opening up to that “whatcouldbenow”. It keeps me from lying in the sun again. It keeps me from being warm again. It keeps me in that Narnia where everything looks really pretty but dormant-dead. Walking through the building from hall to hall, nodding to all the others who look as empty as I feel—“Good morning…”
Walking around the aisles at Tesco, I see my friend’s husband. We smiley-chat about spouses, kids and dogs. He recommends a beer to take home to “Him-indoors”. Smiles, tentative plans, give-my-loves and then he is gone. Meandering again, this time into old-time songs sung on a Saturday night and the fairy-lights in the garden and the smell of spilled wine—and the memory that you had my best interest at heart when you said you had to set me free.
Back home now with the kids wanting this, throwing that, being unquenchable in their need for something that I cannot give them. The failure of home-cooked dinner hangs in the air as I try to breathe. Night-time ritual and Himself sips that recommended beer. The kids go to bed. Checking Facebook, I read status after status : He’s in a relationship. They’ve been down in Cornwall. They celebrated a friend’s engagement. He’s happy with a cup of tea.
I update mine: “Ah, hubby is happy with his new beer, bless him. My ickle angels are tucked away in bed. Now for a bit of me time. Roll on the weekend!”
How chained I am to this freedom.

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About A. E. Wallace aka [EL] Selkie

Ann Wallace holds a degree from the University of Texas at El Paso in Mass Communications and minored in Creative Writing. She worked at the NBC Affiliate Newschannel9 in El Paso, was a journalist for the El Paso Diocese Catholic Newspaper, held writing workshops with The Tumblewords Project, performed as a Slam Poet and published poetry in small literary magazines. She is now an ex-pat in the UK where she lives, knits, games, works and writes. View all posts by A. E. Wallace aka [EL] Selkie

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