Motherhood

Soldier On

I stumble across the ravaged land in a zombie-like trance. A war zone disguised as a home. You can still make out the landmarks: an overturned laundry basket, it’s contents strewn across the floor; the remains of a  breakfast destroyed by ravenous troops spilt over the table; toys scattered throughout, deathtraps for the unknowing.

“Ugh,” I moan, narrowly avoiding more boobie-traps. Tinsel. Laid delicately across the dining room floor, waiting for some fool to fall prey.
I clutch my coffee cup.
I must survive.

Battle cries are heard in the distance as I watch him back down the driveway. A single tear rolls down my cheek.
I can’t believe he left me.
“‘Til the end,” he’d said. Surely an honourable man would have taken me with him, not left me for dead in the trenches.

Perhaps if I quietly snuck out now I could seek refuge at my friends house around the corner.
“And leave the babies to fend for themselves?”
Oh no. These aren’t babies. These are monsters.

A bomb goes off. Screams sound. I brace myself for the erupting chaos.
I must survive.
I am mum.

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3 thoughts on “Soldier On”

  1. Indeed. Soldier on is the only direction! Your honesty is beautiful Jess. Brings back many memories. It is the most challenging thing you will ever do, and the most rewarding – but only if you give yourself credit. You are amazing,

    Like

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