The Man with the Chains

The thought of him fills my heart with fear.

His presence, a painful reminder of my harsh reality – of life’s consequences.

He is never late – and rarely, if ever, offers extensions.

When time with the girls begin, he is the furthest thing from my mind.

As the days go by, however, he starts to creep back to my consciousness, and my stomach begins to feel it. The knot comes back.

His chains are long and powerful.

They are strong and undeniable – unforgiving and cold.

The chains are time and the man carrying them is reality.

I heard these chains dragging down the street just outside my girls’ window.

My mouth ran dry as I said my last goodbye and kissed them on their heads.

As I slumped downstairs, he was there. Waiting.

He didn’t even ring the doorbell. He was just outside – waiting for me.

So I go willingly – accepting time and reality.

But as painful as submitting to the Man with the Chains can be – it brings hope.

Time is now ticking in my favor – a different countdown begins.

As the weeks go by a new feeling will creep in.

For this I am grateful to this Man – for when I see him again he will not be carrying chains but a boarding pass.

He will not have sadness all around him but hope and life.

Oh how I long the day when we meet again…



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