No Right Place to Scream

"A Word After a Word After a Word is Power." - Margaret Atwood

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Thoughts

Musings, if you will

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Rounding the final corner on my morning dog walk, I hold back the urge to sob. I have a sudden inclination to scream. It could be the Alanis in my headphones. It could be the doubting look she gave me the other night that won’t fade no matter how many blinks.

It might be that there is no place to scream.

Where would I go to scream privately? Does it matter if anyone hears me? Isn’t it more important that I get it out?

Why am I screaming? Is it because my first baby, my oldest niece, is 15 and I sent her the Jagged Little Pill album to listen to for the very first time and that makes me feel like my life is occurring too rapidly? Is it because I have so much less control than I ever believed possible? Is it the old growth forest they’re demolishing in Canada? Or the pipelines being approved by ignorant politicians which scientists warn will wipe out the earth? Or is it just that I’m afraid all this climate change is going to kill all of the old growth trees on my street? Am I sad that we moved into a brick ranch like my grandparents’ when our dream house is thousands of miles away? Is it simply and solely that the apocalypse is so much slower and more expensive than I ever imagined possible? I don’t know.

I just know that no matter how badly I want to, there’s no right place to scream. 

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