When It All Stands Still…
There are days when everything stands still, when the sleet in Chicago stops between skyscrapers and the neon lights don’t pulsate in rhythm to the jazz or blues; when the good intentions of recovery lounge in the revolving door of another red brick club; when the belief that tomorrow will be better is as still born as the smile everyone expects.
And it isn’t the stillness that bothers me as much as the echos I can’t escape or the unpredictability of precipitation…condensation rife with the ashes of what could have been. A frozen moment spanning 24 hours in a city I used to call home, just mere miles from the hospital where my son was born and the woman I once loved still loved me.
Here, in the windy city that isn’t currently swaying on the anniversary of his birth, I feel the distance between then and now as each breath propels me further away and I try to convince myself that between now and then he’ll find me again but know that statistically speaking the needle is no longer in the haystack.