Okay, so I’m right. I’ve been pronounced so by a judge. But it doesn’t matter; it is time once again to give in because the costs mounting up are more harmful to me in the end. In time, in health, in money, and in mental state.
It is a relief to know that my suspicions were founded–I’m not being ignorant, just stubborn when all around me are making up their own rules and even when discovered, can just find a new game to play. In the meantime I gallop about on a white horse that only wants to go back to his barn and eat hay.
So that’s two wars from which I’m choosing to politely withdraw, before the stallion rears and I fall to the ground. But it’s funny somehow, to wonder where the seeking of the perfect truth, beauty and good interefere with the mortal world and the justice of right and the worry of wrong. I suppose it has something to do more with peace versus value, and the giving up of acknowledgement of knowledge when the soul is in pain.
Mellowed and tired with not quite an hour of night’s sleep, I start peeling potatoes as I leisurely watch for the furnace repairman, the easy part of this long day.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology