Hot Drink

Red coat, hot drink,therapist's officebreaking the news."Oh," she says,her soft Asian-American facelocked in disbelief.Her eyes welling up with tears.(Her sadness for me issomething I didn't anticipate.)"I know. It sucks," I saybecause I don't know what else will help herhelp me.Y'know it's a big dealwhen the person you rely onfor professional supportis also deeply affectedby the news, by your loss.But why shouldn't she be?She's known all my frustrations,panics, sadness and elationsfor the past 3 years.Pressing the door code on the key padat my time, on my dayweek after week.As I left today she said,"I'm so sorry,"and hugged me,her frame as small as a child'sin my arms.Her kindness a light reflecting back to me. I’ve decided to use Susannah Conway’s December Reflections as daily writing prompts this month, most posts to be small poems, good or bad, posted with a photo, to help me navigate a loss I experienced in late November.See all posts here.