Listen

  • You always knew
  • You did.
  • You did.

We have been studying the French Revolution in homeschool lately. And we’ve been listening to a lot of Les Miserables. And because we’re all into the drama, we’ve been belting out lines from “Master of the House” and screaming 24601!!!!

I really don’t like this show. Except for “I Dreamed a Dream.” Which includes this lyric from poor, sad, toothless Fantine.

But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hope apart
As they turn your dream to shame

I’ve always read this lyric personally, and, as a lifelong, periodic insomniac, attributed it to nightmares. But as I have had more life experience, the tigers? They’re not nightmares. They’re regret. Gnawing regret that comes from looking backward. About the things you saw and ignored, the things you knew and denied. All along, right there. Growling and snarling from the corners you could see were clearly dirty, but turned your head toward the light to see better things.

And the tigers came, and they bit. But I’m biting back.

(Look, it’s not by best metaphor, but it exists, and so do I, and so do they.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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