there it is again. it comes with music and hovers like a cloud while i scoop ice cream to self medicate. after a hard day, strewn with hateful words and tearful goodbyes, i scoop ice cream and methodically reach for a pen. moving to the table now i find a blank page and guage my handwritten font to the size of the scrapped paper.
in me. within me. without me.
i move my pen and hear the words bounce in my head and see the words for what they are, ink on paper, and nod a little bit and tap my foot to keep it all going within me and without me. this is me trying to listen and not listen at the same time. just getting the words down. it’s self talk, that’s what it sounds like. but someone else’s voice. someone stronger than me. someone just ahead of me on the path, someone i could possibly want to be. i move my pen across paper. i want to believe the talk. i want to believe. and someday i will. but for now i am my own secretary just taking dictation.
when the cloud has dissipated. when the paper has run out. i leave the memo on the kitchen table and reach for the melted ice cream drippy with chocolate.
a friend of mine emailed me earlier in the day, before the explosion, she commented on how the universe puts stuff in her path. today it was words. graffiti to be exact, seen while stuck in traffic sitting on the bridge over the colorado river. she told me she thought of me and wondered if i had photographed that spot.
i smiled because i hadn’t.
so i got in the car and stood before the words willing them into my heart.
once again taking dictation.
it is much much later i read my own scrawl. with bleary eyes and crows feet landed firmly on my face. it’s true. i am old and tired. you tossed those words to me like rotting meat to a hungry cat. i kicked them away because i don’t have to eat what you throw out to me anymore, but your words were strong and left me with their stench.
it is not mine to carry any longer. this weight. this negativity for what was lost. we must adapt to carrying this weight, this misunderstanding, this whatever this is that comes between us.
we must learn to juggle it and shift it lightly with respect between us.
to simply let it be.
lives come together, they travel, they split, and new lives are formed. lives intersect as they always do continuously throughout all of time. it’s in how we handle it that reveals our character. today i was not me. you were not you. but we were both who we are when the fire is lit.
we are spontaneous combustion of love and anger, pride and hurt.
let us accept this about ourselves.
and move on.