Please

Tell me it’s okay. Tell me I’m going to wake up tomorrow and the sun will shine through the shutter blinds like it always used to, making patterns on the floorboards and turning the dust in the air into little golden specks, and that while my eyes are still half closed I’ll smell the fragrance of coffee and something frying in the kitchen. Tell me that tonight I’ll hold my baby in my arms, feel her soft little body against mine, her fingers running gently through my hair as she drifts off to sleep, safe and warm. Tell me that when I lie in bed, in that comfortable state between consciousness and dreams, I will hear only your soft breathing, the creak of the bed as you turn, the gentle sighs of sleep. Tell me that when I walk out the door I will see a beautiful world, a world that isn’t crushed and broken; that I will feel whole and my heart will pulse with hope and I’ll know that I’m living and not simply surviving painfully with each new day. Tell me that I can still cry with joy as well as sorrow. I’ll believe you, for just a moment. While you hold me and I bury my face on your shoulder, I’ll believe that nothing ever changed and we still have a family, a home, a life. I can’t tell it to myself anymore. I need to feel it in the squeeze of your hand on my arm and know it from the reassurance in your soft voice. I need to hear it from your lips.

Please ... just tell me it’s okay.

(In case you didn’t read the first comment I posted, this is just a fictional piece I wrote for fun. I imagine it to be something like the prologue to a dystopian novel. It doesn’t reflect my own thoughts, but the thoughts of a character whose life has been crushed. Perhaps her husband has died and she’s trying to tell herself he’s not gone. That’s my opinion, anyway :)