Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Hitting The Keys

He says I am obsessing
about the house.
And he’s right,
I am.
Each day I look on Craigslist,
and on Realtracs,
and in the newspaper,
at other homes for sale.
I look at what they are asking for them
and what they are selling for.
Then I compare mine to them.
“This one isn’t near as nice as mine,
it’s close to the freeway.”
“It doesn’t have a new roof.
You can hear highway 70 from that one. “
And on and on.
Yesterday, I noticed they just lowered the price of one around the corner
another fifteen thousand dollars.
That one has granite countertops and new stainless appliances.
Mine doesn’t.
I know it is wasted energy and wasted thought to keep doing what I am doing.
Each day I vow I am not going to go online and look
and each day I find myself hitting the keys.
I guess I’m scared.
I’m scared to just let go and trust.
I’m scared to let anyone else handle anything.
I’m scared that I will never get out of here.
It’s been over a year since Trouble died
and I’m still here.
I’m still looking out at the hill
that he loved
and wishing
I could move.
I don’t know if moving is the answer or not,
but it couldn’t hurt.
It would give me a fresh start.
Moving would feel symbolic,
like I was making progress
and heading in the right direction.
I could forget the accidents,
and his death,
and all the bad memories,
and just start over.