Narrative 2005

i stood at the mirror one sunday afternoon all my pretty gone i was sixty years too soon i knew i could turn back the clock a little in image if i just tried that is not why the tears came i looked deep into my eyes looking for the answer of why.... why i squandered my life on a persons of unsound character i thought of two young men in my family that took a gun to end it all i thought of my best friend who told me he would kill himself and he did i tried to stop the tears but they came anyway as i recalled a old refrain sometimes a woman gotta cry i took to my couch sat staring at the wall a old friend walked in and said "what is wrong with you?" i told it all... all the pain of the past of my children of rejections that struck me like a knife he said the the old pep her up. "you did the best you could" i knew i didn't. i was selfish. i confessed my sins as if he were a priest as i sobbed relentlessly i said this is not a pity party this is the cold hard truth served cold he put his sunglasses down and gathered me in his arms in a hug i soked his shoulder i cried for all the times i had never done much i deserve this the tiredness the pain i walked him to the door he said you will be alright i said i would never be alright again and that is why i cried. and then..... my mama died.