We’ve burned the last of them. The scent will be in the air for days.
But then it doesn’t often “smell” nice around here as we have the
goats and the chickens.
I feel so far removed from what I once was. Living in an expensive
apartment in the city, with a wonderful view of said city. At night.
All the lights. It was amazing. And I didn’t appreciate it then.
I never stopped to “smell the roses.” And smelling the undead’s
burned remains in the air I wish I had stopped every time to smell
actual roses. I can barely conjure up the scent in my mind.
I was always on the go. Always looking for that next story. When
I wasn’t looking for the next story I was entertaining, schmoozing,
living the life.
I was single. I wasn’t near any family. Penny was my family. As she
is now, still. No kids…and now I may never have them.
I never stopped to think that I should “find” a husband and settle
down. I had the life as far as I was concerned. All that other stuff
could come later. But now there isn’t a later. Now there is just
the day to day survival.
I’m here. Alone. As I always was. There is no one to complain to
about the stench in the air except for the people who have to smell
the same stench WITH me.
I’m alone. But I’m not. I have these people. What we know of each
other is that we all have to get up and struggle to survive every
single day.
What we did in the Before just doesn’t matter to anyone but each
of ourselves. Our memories. How long will they carry us? What good
are they?
Will they help us rebuild? Will they help us to feel a sense of purpose
in order to keep moving on? To keep trying? To keep living?
What is driving all of us? We could each of us just end it and be done.
The world is so horrid right now. But we keep going.
I have to cover my nose to get through this day. I have to shower
as much as I can because we, here, have the luxury of running water
no matter how cold it is. And I need to feel clean if nothing else.
I had assumed when I arrived here, that these people had been
together from the beginning. But having been with them here at
this motel for awhile now. I have learned that they did not know each
other. They all found each other here and there till we all ended up
at this roadside motel.
But you could not look at us and know that. That we were all essentially
strangers weeks ago. A couple months ago.
We interact as family does. What binds us? Is it the everyday struggle?
The fact we understand each other and how we’re all feeling?
What binds us?
Trina trusts me with her girls as if I’d always known them.
Robert walks into my room to fix this or that. And the modest we
once felt in the Before is not present now.
We have adapted. We have become what we all are now. Together.
That is what binds us.
Knowing that we all have experienced this horrific change to our
world and we are still here. Surviving. We are the survivors.
And every day that we continue to be survivors we are even more
bound together.
As we help each other. As we care for one another. This is what
will help us rebuild what we once had.
Sam