Jessica Gazzola

I had so many sweet, sensitive pieces echoing inside my head to write for Valentine’s Day weekend. I ate a lot of frosting. This is what came out. It’s real. Honesty is sacred.

Happy Valentine’s Day

When I’m sad I try not to show it.  I say, “I didn’t get enough sleep” or, “I’m stressed,” about something transient and unimportant.  It will seem like any other day to you.  I cook and smile and care and drink coffee… and then more coffee.

But inside my wheels are full of tar.  My throat is in a cinch.  My chest wears a heavy breastplate thinking it will protect the thing I wish to keep untouchable.

Until someone I barely know inquires, “How are you doing?”  That question, with the eyes!  The damn unhurried empathy; and the breastplate is sand, the noose loosens and my wheels turn freely with tears.  I cry on her shoulder and leave with an awkward “good bye.”  The Valentine air whips my tears away and forms a new icy smile to get me through the day.