Trust

        Babysitting is an interesting thing. The parents count on you to stay in their home, take care of their kids and keep the house from burning down. How can they be sure that you're not going to rob them blind or trash the house? How do they know that their kids are in good hands, where knives are stored, outlets are covered and the stove won't be left on? Are they always positive that your common sense is reliable? Some parents leave the house with an uneasy feeling and call every half hour. Others have a relieved vibe as they walk out the front door. So many things could go wrong, but most times nothing ever does. I'm sitting on the couch while a young boy sits upstairs watching TV. As I sit here all the possibilities cross my mind, I'm trying not to stress. The mom went to the hospital after experiencing back pain. Who knows when she'll be home? The house is small, but has an open feel. The living room walls are painted in a youthful light blue, with teal couches to match. The coffee table is refinished and painted lime green. It's not your typical "family home", but it portrays the personality of the young mom. It's just her and her son, but they seem happy. There is a cat here too, it's a grey Siamese. His name is Rocky, the mom told me he doesn't like people, but he's not so bad.

         I have a little trouble with trust sometimes. I often doubt the people I know I can count on, but I can't put my finger on exactly why I do it. Maybe it's because I've let go of so many things in my life. If I don't give myself the opportunity to be vulnerable, I can't get hurt. I try very hard every day to let new people in, and keep the old ones close. I guess practice makes perfect.

Could I have held on?

Maybe I just miss her?

The girl I used to be; the brave tree climber with callused hands and grassy feet.

I smile, but not the way I used to with teeth and sparkling eyes.

Her energy has been drained from me and kept in a vile.

If only I could shatter the glass and take back what is rightfully mine.

Try as I might it’s no use, society took hold of me and I have no excuse.

The sky seemed so blue back then, and the trees were tall and strong.

I was blind to the hurt and the pain.

I often ask myself, could you have held on, stayed the same for longer, or not have changed at all?

I’m mourning her disappearance, the life I once led.

The girl I once was.

The joyous song in my head.