Ragtag: Salvage and Daily Addictions: Responsible

It was getting late. Late in the day, late in his years, and definitely late in the game.

Every muscle ached from tension. How could he possibly salvage anything from today’s events? It was another in a recent past of disappointments. Recent past. . .a year’s worth of them stacked high like rotted trash. All efforts resulted in the utter helpless feeling he felt this evening.

Sipping coffee, trying to organize what he should do next, scanning options over and over. The very idea of options almost made him laugh. He was responsible for these results. Opportunities were gone, along with hope. He held his head in his hands, brushing his hair back when his wife came behind him and hugged his shoulders.

“We’ll make do”, she offered, “we have so far. Try not to be so discouraged, things have to change soon. The pendulum always swings back. . .doesn’t it?”

Frank looked up at his wife’s face, seeing the worry she tried to disguise. He felt a tear, but brushed it aside, hoping she wouldn’t notice. The love of his life encouraging him was almost too much. They walked hand in hand to their bedroom and tried to sleep. Frank would rise yet again and look for work tomorrow.