An Essay of Feelings For the Single Mom

Writing is what I do, so I'm going back to story telling. Here's the first part of . . .

A Still Small Voice

Shay O’Neal plunged herself into her worn-out, yet, comfortable sofa. The warm California sun eased its way out of another day. It was D-day for her—the first day after the divorce was final. She was alone, or so it seemed. Was she the only one who had failed so miserably at a marriage, not to mention the embarrassing attempts to win him back? And the questions that now haunted her were setting her up for another defeat.

Can I raise two teenage sons alone? Will they let me? What will we eat? Where will we live? Will I be alone forever? Who would want me now, anyway? One of the songs her husband wrote played over and over in her mind. A voice she didn’t want to remember.

I’ve given all that I can give
Now I’m down on my knees . . .
Hello sadness, I see we meet again.
Hello madness, my old friend.

To be continued . . .