Today’s prompt: What is the condition of my heart? What is it like for you to see the condition of your heart?
The condition of my heart? Well, when I make it to 9:00 pm without crying then burst into tears when I ask one of the cats if he misses Cooper, misses being called shit head, my heart seems like a teenage girl. The same is true when my sternum feels about to give way to my pounding heart or when my heart feels leaden. When it feels huge and vacant, with plenty of room for love, then suddenly a hardened peach pit—shriveled, dry, devoid of love or the capacity to feel. All over the place and more than a little crazy.
But really, my heart is a mirror to Cooper’s last, troubled, tumultuous, terrifying months.
I can’t break heart time into weeks or days; I must evaluate in moments. Flashes of time that demand my attention.
Some moments of heart time are frantic, pounding, racing. Manic. In those moments, sarcastic hope and temporary respite from pain may rule my heart. Moments, though. Not hours. Not days. Certainly not weeks or months.
The next moment of heart time is dulled, thrust back to dismal reality, stuck on the couch for hours with no respite in sight. Depressed. Salty tears in open wounds. These moments might stretch for hours or days.
Occasionally, my heart is lost in the forest, confused, tormented, in danger. In need of rescue. Help. Treatment. My heart doesn’t know its own brokenness.
In heart time, moments of confusion are common and frequent. My heart, like Coop, has lost its bearing. It no longer trusts itself. It wonders if it even knows itself. What good is it doing?
To look at my heart’s condition is to break my heart.
Woods Writes 