Flooded Memories


She sat on her bed, slowly counting. 1,2,3, 67.

The first few were easy. With the last,she hesitated and memories flooded.

She saw her dad bringing home her dog for the first time.

Her little brother playing his games.

Her mammy sat in her chair, like there was nothing even wrong.

Aunt and Uncle, carrying on. Laughing not a care in the world.

But she went in, said her goodnights.

Then wrote her family a note saying “It’s not your fault.”

She whispered, “I love you.”

Then she hoped for the last time, shut off the lights.


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