Day 52

If it wasn’t for the numbered days above, I would have lost track of time. Each morning is blurring into the next. The certainty of each day reaching out, slowly and endlessly, towards an uncertain future. I can’t even take comfort in predictability. Each day bringing just enough chaos to fork the path ahead.

A little four year old. A conundrum wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a pink dress. Each day she brings new questions, new madness. Will she eat breakfast (no)? Will she reach the bus on time (yes)? Will she look into her fathers heart and calculate the exact amount of pressure to bring to take him to the brink of madness, but not beyond (yes)? Will she eat dinner (no)? Where will she sleep (the sofa)?

Will she fall asleep and melt her fathers heart (always)?

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