Dining Room Table
By Brittany Perloff
She remembers all the dinners on this dining room table like they were sewn into her mind, one loop after another until they were perfectly stitched together. The times where she made googly eyes at her special someone and played footsies under the table. Her heart pounded to his like a tune that was perfectly intertwined together.
She sits at this same dining room table, but now it just looks like misery was poured all over it. It’s no longer vibrant and loving; it’s now drowning in its own sorrow and covered in scars, too much to ever repair.
Looking out the window she used to see him mowing the lawn as she drank her morning coffee, now she sees a lawn that lays on dry mud and plants that once were living and beautiful.
Wishing with every last hope she has she can change what is forming in front of her eyes. Every last tear that falls down her flush face and is sucked in by her broken heart. Every last memory is running away from her, but she is trying to hold so tight that her hands get numb. Every last whisper she hears from someone at a higher power, which normally raises her spirit is now useless. Her spirit is died, her body is numb. She sits at this dining room table,
Crying out to god that one day this very table will once again bring joy, love and laughter and will mend the things that are broken and give her back what she has lost.