Change comes at a snail's pace.
The kind that matters, anyway.
It's easy to be impatient.
To get fed up.
To say that things will always be the same.
'Cause change is slow.
But that's just the selfish part of us talking.
The bitter part.
The part that knows deep down
that we probably won't live to see it.
- m.w.
About the Creator
Michael Wolfe
Always trying to make sense of things.
You can follow me on instagram @mv.wolfe
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Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson4 days ago in Fiction
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