“Bound by Gravity”
Sorry to be despondent, but this bleak gray month of February has nested in like a boulder, cold, hard, and immobile. I am struggling. Yearning for release from our challenging reality, but bound.
I am tied to the world by obligation: to you and your legacy, to solving your brutal murder, to holding up Dan and Alex through this obscene desecration. I am bound here by frantic canine scratching at the door, brown eyes at food bowl, bushels of dirty laundry cascading like yeasted dough from the hamper. These implied promises hold me fast. I am at core a doer, a worker. I cannot turn aside when duty calls.
It is tempting though. It would be so fine, so easy to let go, to float away. Is this the ultimate power of gravity/sorrow? It holds us here with tethers of love and obligation. Would that the strands might fray, separate, perhaps release, because the tie so often chafes.
We need some magic here Morgan. An arrest would mean a rest. Bring it on. Please?
Always, 241, Mama