Salt in my Wounds

October 5th, 2010

When I’m trying to lose weight, giving up sweets is never a problem. I could have a chocolate bar in the house for two weeks and not finish it, but I love salt. The savor of it, the piquancy, the way it brings out other tastes in food. I love the smell of the salt marsh and big flakes of sea salt and bowls of salty chips. But lately tears have been the seasoning in my dish of sorrow, an ocean of tears, enough to sweep me away like Alice in Wonderland. And while they bring momentary relief, they also come at inappropriate moments, seemingly for no reason at all, sometimes with no warning. I’ll be in the check-out line at the supermarket and suddenly I’m overcome. Or sitting at the computer in my office, I’ll begin weeping. Or I wake up crying in the morning with no memory of a bad dream, just the hard landing from blessed unconciousness onto the unyielding tarmac of daylight and reality. I know there’s an ebb and flow to grief, and I’m trying to trust that this salty sea of tears will recede and I’ll develop a taste for sweetness in my life again, or at last.

2 Responses to “Salt in my Wounds”

  1. I hope sweetness finds you too.

  2. Molly says:

    Your recent writing has caught me by the throat — so haunting and achingly poignant. Thank you for mining your heart and sharing it in this way. Wishing you catharsis wherever it finds you, in moments large and small.

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