Knock, knock

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

[Silence]

I open the door to see the back of her head..

Walking away..

From me.

Knock, knock.

Who.

Is.

There?

[Silence]

I hate being ignored.

She’s a real piece of work.

It’s been four years since we’ve seen each other..

And spoken to one another.

I’ve seen her numerous times in between then.

I’ve tried reaching out.

All I’ve gotten is..

[Silence]

Silence..

Is..

So..

LOUD!

It’s deafening.

It hurts my ears.

It hurts my..

Heart.

What a heartless person.

It.

Just.

Hurts.

I try to see her perspective.

She may have her reasons.

She must have her reasons.

I’ve theorized quite a few.

If any/all are true..

I’ve accepted it.

I’m an only child.

Don’t even get me started on my brothers.

I’m an only child.

I’ve accepted it.

I do miss her.

Well..

I miss..

Certain parts of her.

Definitely not her..

Attitude.

Judgment.

Loose lips.

Superiority complex.

Insults.

I’d rather adjust to her absence..

Than be frustrated by her toxic presence.

My message to her that may very well forever go unanswered:

“Thank you.

Yes.

Thank.

You.

Thank you for showing me how not to be a sister.

Thank you for making room for other people..

Who have stepped up..

Who have chosen to be in my life..

They are my chosen family.

And you’re..

Missing..

Out.

Oh, well.”

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

[Silence]

I don’t care anymore.

This piece I wrote during another Journaling Workshop virtual event hosted by The Mighty that I attended earlier this week. Again, I can’t say enough about this group. They’re such a breath full of fresh air. I enjoy their company. We let all the feelings out on the floor. As I mentioned in my last post and the post before that, I highly recommend checking out their virtual events (&/or articles, social media posts, etc).

I debated about attending this virtual event since I’ve been under the weather, but I powered through it because I knew.. I needed it. It’s one of the few things I look forward to these days. Besides, nobody there could catch my germs, even if I was contagious.. Well, maybe their computer could catch a virus or two! Haha.. I’m glad I stuck it out and joined because a good piece came out of it. Go figure, even with my irritability and fatigue. I really thought I wouldn’t be able to churn anything out.. besides.. nonsense.

I chose the above photos to complement my piece because the covered bridge represents the care I had taken to preserve our estranged relationship. To bridge the gap.. between us. I kept hope alive longer than warranted. I didn’t want to burn any bridges. I’ve decided to take the high road. The covered bridge has a plaque that reads: Hyde Road. How fitting! How punny. Hy..de Road. High road.

The covered mailboxes are taken care of too. To protect those precious messages. Each mailbox is different. Varying in size, design, color, material, condition, and even how it’s attached to the post. Some by nails, brackets, or bungee cord! Some are barely holding on by a thread. Some are enclosed. Some are open ended with no cover. How symbolic of how we, humans, are.

Every family is dysfunctional.
I have chosen to function through the dysfunction.

Every relationship takes a hiatus.
I have chosen to make the most of the time I have.. with the people who choose to be.. Present.

Published by

Allison Hibbard

Free Spirit. Dancer. Mermaid. Thrifty Shopper. Vessel of Fun Facts. Warrior. Old Soul. Writer. Empath.

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