
Grooves
My heart stops. Everything goes silent. As my father stands in front of me, every squeak that comes out of his mouth just makes me fall deeper into a black hole that is in reality a black chair. Strong leather yet soft and cushiony, I fall deeper and deeper into a swirling pit that I can now call my life.
The wooden table seems to shake around me as if the world has fallen apart and that’s because in my mind, it has. The grooves work their way into a formation that seems to tell a story, a story that tells me that everything will be okay. From the swirls to the straight lines, everything just seems to come together. As my eyes trace up the once sturdy table just as my life used to be, I meet the wall. Stark white is one way to explain it, another would be broken. The cracks that make up the texture of the wall all intertwine in a way that connects it all back together in a positive way creating a strong unit.
I wish at this moment that my life could be the same way. Instead, the windows represent more of what i now am. See through and vulnerable. Everything used to make sense, every crack and groove all had their own direction. A direction that made them their own. Now they’re all one. Every issue comes back to one person, every crack starts to intertwine and every single thing affects the whole. This issue has broken my whole down. My whole is my family and the issue is the cancer cells rotting my father’s body. My grooves no longer go in all different directions meeting only when they overlap as they will infinitely continue to do across my kitchen table, they now overlap and tear apart a once whole family.
