Disgust

DISGUST

I see the way you look at me. I can recognize it immediately.

I think disgust is universal. Do I deserve it? I’m not so sure. I can be honest with myself and recognize that some of it is on me. But is it really fair?

I love you. So much so that I crave to be around you when you are gone. I know you once felt that way about me, but now you sigh deeply when I come into the room. My mere presence is a burden to your existence.

I remember watching you sleep in my arms. I remember how your breathing would deepen as you slowly fell asleep. I remember trying to transfer you to your crib once you stopped moving every few minutes. As I slowly leaned over the crib, your eyes would fly open searching for me as if I was your life raft. Now, you look at me like I am pulling you under.

When did it change? What was my part in the story and how much of it is the natural order of things? Did I ever have any control over the outcome?