I should be in bed. Sleep desperately calls my name, but instead, I fall where I stand, sinking deep into a chair. I stare at the kitchen table that is still dirty. The dishes are piled high and the laundry is even higher. Yet here I sit, unable to move, staring at the mess. For tonight, the giant visited.
So I remain frozen, holding the warm mug in between my cold hands. I taste the tea, smooth and bold and so hot it almost burns my tongue. A small habitual comfort.
I close my eyes, squelch them shut, trying not to cry. I’m so tired of the tears. But tears do not know tired, so they visit me all the same. They seep out, slow at first, but then they run in full bloom without abandon until my mascara runs and my eyes sting and my nose is red and I am a mess once again.
I’m so tired of staring down my giant, for it is so very exhausting being David.
It is so very exhausting reaching into your flimsy bag of smooth stones only to find it empty, having nothing left to fight with other than the fragile strength of your own backbone. The dirt and tears and blood and sweat of you forged into your greatest and only true weapons.
It is so very exhausting to have whole pieces of you ripped out and tossed aside by the ones who you entrusted them with. To be left alone to dig through the muck in effort to find what’s left of you. Patch them together with tired and dirty hands, to hold together the pieces of a torn and weary heart.
Through the digging, the question of the cruelty of life screams loud. The pain blares at full pitch, ringing steadily in the long night of silence. It mocks you as you dig through the dirt with your bloody nails and torn knees.
So, the tears linger with their visit, and they fall until time is lost.
But in the end what I know is this.
The darkness of night will end. It will. Because somehow it always does. Always.
My swollen eyes will awaken to the bright and lovely and beautiful sun as it seeps through my windows. I will hear the voices of my babies and know they are the reason I forge weapons out of my broken bones in order to slay not only this giant but every one to come. They are the blood that courses through my veins, and it will cover us until it is done.
They will never know the warrior they made out of their own mother, but they will know she got back up every time she was knocked down. They will know she chose kindness when the world was unkind. They will know she chose grace when none was given to her. They will know she chose love when love itself ripped her apart. They will know she loved them wholly despite being full of holes herself. They will know that tears fell and yet a smile always found its way through. That laughter always seeped out from within, even through the deepest cracks.
They will know sun on their shoulders and wind in their hair. Ears full of notes and eyes full of wonder. They will know strength because they forged their own right alongside mine.
They are the steel in my bones and the spark of tinder in the dark cave of my heart. They are every single thing, and my love for them will always be greater than any battle I face.
So, I breathe deep tasting my now cold tea. I will get up and wash the streaks of mascara off my cheeks. The dishes and laundry will wait. My babies will sleep, and for their sake, I know that I will not be defeated. For somehow David always finds a new stone, and giants? Giants always fall.