It's what we crave most in this world - more time. More time to to finish that project. More time to spend on our Spring Break. More time to share stories with family on Christmas Eve. More time to spend with the people we love. More time to laugh. More time in that final embrace. If only that last breath lasted a lifetime, we could suspend time, hang in a moment, dangle our lives over a life that is quickly dissipating.
Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever. No one stays forever. Eventually, we all walk away on our own path. We all abandon someone in the end.
In less abstract terms, the abrupt illness of my dog, Harriet has caused a catharsis of memories to erupt. Christina's Dad in a casket; Toe's Mom 4 years later; my Grandpa screaming for it to stop; my cat, Pizza, lurching her paws forward in pain; the last time I saw Kay...and then there is the worst sense of abandonment, loss, fear, grief - the day my Grandma, my best friend, my soulmate's eyes went stone. Her breath was still constant, her hands still warm, but she was no longer there.
More time. I would give my left kidney for more time.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
My Worried Shoes
I'm hiding under the wicker table with my dog, Droopy. My Mom is screaming, running down the street in her pajamas, "Pizza!!! Pizza!!!! She's dead! I know she's dead on the highway." My Mom is crying. I am crying. Droopy is snapping at my face. My Dad puts a leash on Droopy and takes her outside to look for Pizza. Within ten minutes, Dad comes inside with Droopy hungry for a treat and Pizza under his arm. Mom and I gush over the cat, crying tears of joy into her fur until she scratches at us and wanders to the food dish...Tomorrow, Pizza will be dead, again. I will cry under the table once more, and Dad and Droopy will bring her home.
Fifteen years later, the daughter under the table's stomach will start to churn, her fingers begin to twitch, the memories of what has happened circle around her, laughing and taunting her with "you dumb schmuck. You let this happen to you, again." In the end, it will be out of her control and have nothing at all to do with her, but she will still think it does. Since she has been bred into this fucked-up illusion of a world, she will assume that the world is out to get her. If you got burned once, why not twice, and over and over again? If this is not about me, though, than something horrible must have happened. Someone must be dead on the highway and in some way it is my fault. Whatever the case, something is just not right. I can feel it in my gut. The normal has been compromised and I've picked up on it by 2pm. It is the curse that my Mom has gifted me - the curse to feel when something bad is happening or about to. It is a curse that leaves others thinking you are crazy, because you cannot offer any proof, but you can also not shake the feeling. It will consume you, until the answers are realized. When you finally find out, you look back at the situation and realize that the person you were insanely worried about, is a person you barely know. So who is this worry really about? It's really a fear of being left behind. The fear of someone walking out, again and again. The fear of countless broken promises. The fear of rejection. The fear of death. The fear of lonely.
Fifteen years later, the daughter under the table's stomach will start to churn, her fingers begin to twitch, the memories of what has happened circle around her, laughing and taunting her with "you dumb schmuck. You let this happen to you, again." In the end, it will be out of her control and have nothing at all to do with her, but she will still think it does. Since she has been bred into this fucked-up illusion of a world, she will assume that the world is out to get her. If you got burned once, why not twice, and over and over again? If this is not about me, though, than something horrible must have happened. Someone must be dead on the highway and in some way it is my fault. Whatever the case, something is just not right. I can feel it in my gut. The normal has been compromised and I've picked up on it by 2pm. It is the curse that my Mom has gifted me - the curse to feel when something bad is happening or about to. It is a curse that leaves others thinking you are crazy, because you cannot offer any proof, but you can also not shake the feeling. It will consume you, until the answers are realized. When you finally find out, you look back at the situation and realize that the person you were insanely worried about, is a person you barely know. So who is this worry really about? It's really a fear of being left behind. The fear of someone walking out, again and again. The fear of countless broken promises. The fear of rejection. The fear of death. The fear of lonely.
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