Samantha Coxwell
Bio
Go easy on me, I’m an painter, not a writer. I am using this platform to get thoughts and feelings out by exploring the art of writing.
Stories (5)
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Open letter to my firstborn son
An open letter to my first born, Our lives changed the moment we brought baby brother home to you. You were never the same. I was never the same. From that moment on, you have been having a hard time. A hard time sharing mommy’s love, a hard time expressing yourself, and hard time sleeping. I am sorry for that. I hate that you are having a hard time sharing the center of our world with your new brother.
By Samantha Coxwell8 months ago in Families
Little bullet
It’s 10:46 pm. I debate going to bed because I am tired. I debate going to bed because I need to be up early. I debate going to bed because it’s what I should do. The debate is won. I sit back down on the couch. I fast forward the commercial to the next scene. My mind wants to focus on tomorrow. On what should be done vs what needs to be done. I push those thoughts away. My drink is empty. I take a sip of his drink. He’s sleeping. I watch mindlessly because I need to rest. I watch mindlessly because I don’t get to during the day. I watch mindlessly because I can. I dig my feet into the cushion split beneath me. I touch something with my toes and pray it’s not a bug or food. It’s a bullet. An orange and blue foam bullet. I breathe relief. I smile. This little bullet brings me joy. My day was hard and I needed to smile. Typically, this bullet would remind me of the mess around me. Instead I allow it to bring me joy. The joy I begged for 3 years ago. The joy I prayed for, for almost a decade. This little bullet reminds me of what I’ve been given regardless of how I feel. My feelings are fleeting. They change with my circumstances. I’m working on controlling my feelings. Some days I wake up mad and I have to fight myself. Some days I wake up spent and I have to push myself. Some days I wake up hopeless and I have to pray longer. But some days I wake up smiling and I join in with the little voice next to me sing “rise and shine and give God the glory, glory.” O wish everyday is like those days. I want to be a joyful person, I want to sing with him, I want to give God the glory, glory. I stare at the little screen reflecting his Angel like face. You’d never know he made me crazy hours ago. I look at the big couch I’m sitting on and I see the other little guys angel face. The one who won’t sleep without me near by. Normally I’d be annoyed but tonight I can’t stop looking at him. His perfect lashes. His perfect lips. His perfect breathing. My heart hurts. It’s not the hurt that is sad. It’s the hurt that love causes in a deep way.
By Samantha Coxwell8 months ago in Journal
