(D)rip, drip, drip.

Words can mean so many things…

Drip,

drip,

drip. The sound of summer when Addy’s ice cream melts to the pavement.


Drip,

drip,

drip. The sound of Sarah’s fear when I leave to go with my brothers to fight for Addy’s freedom from hate and rage.


Drip,

drip,

drip. The sound of war falling from the my helmet when I think of Addy.


Drip,

drip,

drip. The sound of life as medicine enters the IV and Sarah as asks Death to wait just a little longer. He doesn’t.


Drip,

drip,

drip. The sound of Sarah’s and Addy’s memories on photographs of us at the beach eating ice cream.


Drip, drip, drip. The sound of birthday cake batter laughing as it hits the floor with Addy and her son about how I made the same spill at her 12th birthday party.


Everyone is supposed to eat the rainbow — you know, orange carrots, red bell pepper, even purple potatoes. I’m pretty sure that the little green heart counts, so if you liked it please click it and let me know so I get all the nutrients I need to make it through the day.

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