Nesting

by Roisín O’Donnell

People on a merry-go-round. From a distance they looked happy. It was only when you looked closer that you could tell they were screaming.

Drifted. Got through each day. Focused on the minutiae. First shoes. Vaccinations. Chesty coughs. Sweet-potato puree. Made a religion out of motherhood. A cult that blocked out everything else.

It’s difficult to make good decisions when your head is loud with sirens.

“That’s his story,” Maeve says. “His words. Not yours. His version of the story. His voice in your head. What would it feel like to listen to yourself for a change?”