Tears of a Dragon

You used to never cry, and now you cry every day. At the drop of a particular word or phrase, at a chore or errand you struggle with now. I know why you’re crying now, but why didn’t you cry before?

“I think I was numb to it. Maybe I had to be strong? Maybe I couldn’t give that person the satisfaction?”

There are dozens of reasons why we shut off our water pipes. But you’re firehosing it now. I’m drowning in your tears. Come here, let me hold you tight. I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. If we face the dragon together, will we win?

“How can we beat the dragon?” you ask. “I really want to know.”

It’s as if somehow my reply would have the right answer. I didn’t have the answers or solutions. But I’ll try to sneak you into its cave, along the edge, and then sneak up beneath its purple skin and towering head, stories above us, and you jab it right in the jugular. I’ll help you thrust it; I know you’ve lost strength.

“The dragon’s blood holds the antidote,” I say with a smile. You lean into me on your teal blue couch. “Oh, your feet are cold, here, I brought you a gift.” I reach into the bag I brought, sitting at my feet. “They’re slipper socks, made of the softest wool,” I tell you and your eyes get wide and a smile sneaks past your lips.

“Polka dots,” you say, and I gently put them on your feet.

And lean forward and give you a healing kiss. You smile at me and hug me tight. I hold you and hold you, I’ll never let go.

“I don’t know how to do anything anymore. And the waiting on doctors, orders, and referrals isn’t helping anything.” Your smile fades. Your eyes settle back down to their sad resting position.

“I know the waiting is intense,” I say, putting my hand on your thigh. You lean back, your face tightens, your eyes crush your eyelashes, and the tears appear in the corner of your eye, wait to make their debut, then drizzle down your cheek.

“What’s going to happen next?” you implore. You wrap your arms around your ribs. “How am I going to get it all done?”

“Does it all have to be done? With your timeline? I’ll help as much as I can.” I reach out and hold your hand. “Let’s just worry about one thing. Let’s prioritize.”

“It’s also overwhelming.” You look across the room, looking for answers. “They’re not there,” you say, your voice so quiet.

“No, the answers aren’t there. But we’ll battle the dragon together.”