Written Words

A handwritten note in a drawer turned up suddenly five and a half years after my mother was gone.  Stunned, I read words that swept me back to that terrible time.  Agony.  Interminable pain, spreading through limbs.  I looked at the page over and over again wanting to go back to that night when I jotted down her words on four pieces of paper near the bed.  I wanted to go back and hear the voice speaking; to feel the pain, the love and the yearnings.  Perhaps I would have reacted differently.  Perhaps I would have asked a question.  Roused from sleep.  Shaking off the slumber.  Perhaps...

If only I could hear, one more time, the written word.

I only I could repent.

Behold the power of 

the written word.

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