It seems as though I’m not the only one experiencing this as a spouse.
The earthquake has passed, the treatment is over, you’re using the words remission and survivor. Yet, there’s always something that makes you look over your shoulder. A pain, a twinge, a decision…something that makes the ground under your feet shift just a bit. You have to stop right where you are until it passes. Then you move on, until the next time that the earth trembles.
No one tells you about this…they circle the wagons, hand out the poison and make the love of your life well again. Then they let you figure out the living part on your own, And the people around you move on too, as they should. They are far enough from the point of impact that the ground shake doesn’t quite reach them. Unless, of course, they’ve had an earthquake of their own.
And it makes me wonder…what does an aftershock feel like to a child? What will make my son’s ground tremble in the future?
