The Garage

After the man has come home from work,

After he’s eaten dinner with his family,

After he’s done the dishes,

After he’s tucked his kids into bed,

He slips into the garage

To Decompress.

His head falls into his hands,

As he reflects on the things he did that day, asking himself if it was enough . . .

He wonders if his wife will see the demons that he’s been running from;

And he wonders if his son will look at him as a man he wants to become.

He wonders if his daughter will fall in love with a man like himself;

And he prays to a God he doesn’t know is real,

That she falls for a better man than he.

He tries to feel proud of who he is.

He tells himself to be grateful for his little life.

Alone in the garage,

           He grabs the cigarettes he hides from the kids,

And he tries to feel like he is doing enough for them . . .

But,

He feels pulled too thin.

Burnt out.

Tired;

The tiredness that sleep doesn’t fix.

He’s not sure how much more he has to give.

He feels it all.

And the urge to curl up in a ball,

And say,

         “Fuck it all,” get’s buried somewhere down deep,

          Before it can spread through his bones

          And infect his soul.

He takes a breath

And puts on a smile,

Before going back into his home that he still owes $300,000 on. 

“How was the garage?” his wife asked him as he entered their bedroom. 

“Peaceful,” he said with a sigh as he crawled into bed with her. 

“I’m glad,” she said, kissing his forehead before turning off the lamp on her nightstand. 

But nightmares of the pressuring building still haunt his sleep. And the dark circles around his eyes deepen.

-CH 4/23/25