Bad Times

Behind Closed Doors


          Once, early on in life, when we went behind a closed door it was an adventure! Wasps sometimes built nests inside that old privet house (outhouse to my country cousins); the smell was interesting to say the least. Flies could be heard below and the boards sometimes were known to pinch. But it was just another part of growing up around west Texas.


          Behind closed doors took on a whole new meaning with midlife; and a whole new adventure! There was companionship, love, bonding, sharing, caring, and building of a family that went on behind those new closed doors. Life was good, love was strong and seemingly unending…


          But now I live alone behind a new set of closed doors since your leaving. Oh, the wasps and flies are gone, there is no smell, or cold air, flowing in between the cracks; but this new life is still a pit covered over with what is left of the building that was once our lives. These doors are all the more depressing because like the originals, I enter it all alone…

          I cry out to God; but He doesn’t listen to my cries anymore. The least you could have done on leaving was to hand me in a roll…


~ © 2002/2010 – David L. Griffith ~
For My Special Lady

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