It was 6:47 and I looked at her with compassion. She needed a friend. It had been a long, long time since I’d seen
that look on her face. It was a bit
bewildered. She told me she wasn’t quite
sure what was going on…only that she felt different. She wasn’t sure what this particular
reckoning was about.
The Tornado. It
seemed over – but fuck, what a mess to be cleaned up.
I tried to calm her down.
I wanted to be a friend, but really; what on earth could I
say? Where could I start?
So I said the only thing I could, the only things that I
could think of.
She wasn’t upset, she wasn’t crying, she wasn’t angry – she was…haunted. Like one that wakes up mid dream in the woods
and wonders why it’s cold because she’s still under a down comforter in bed,
the night outside the glass. The most
dangerous thing to do is breathe – deeply -and live.
I found words for her.
I spoke soft but steady – like you would to a spooked animal that could
pummel you to death, and even that - a soft caring voice - wouldn’t take that
haunted look from the wild beasts’ eyes.
Time. She needed
time.
She needed calm. A
voice had to get through to her.
I focused on her eyes even though she looked hollow.
“It won’t always be like this,” I said nodding.
“You are doing the best you can with what you’ve got. God has a plan for you, a hope, and a future.”
She nodded slightly.
“But you need to keep going, toward that future because you
can’t stay where you are. You know that,
I know you do. You just can’t stay.” I put my hand on my chest, she seemed to
understand, and squinted a bit – for a moment I thought she might well up and
tear, but she was stone.
“It won’t always be like this. Right now will pass, I promise.
Just
Let it pass.”
“You feel totally alone; you always have though, haven’t
you?” The way her head moved passed
for an acquiescence. “Your kids are good, better than good; you
are doing a good job.” She did tear up
with that; I seemed to be getting through.
“Just keep going, none of this other shit matters – one day
it will all be history, every fucked up second of it.” A tear slid and she bit her upper lip. She gets angry at herself far too easy when
she feels weak She gets confused when it’s quiet like this – when it’s just she
and I. No one, no one ever sees
her. Not like this. Not haunted like this. Never like this.
She took in a deep breath and blew out, like there were
birthday candles. She told her kids to
do that when they were little – breathe and blow out candles when they would
cry, it always seemed to work.
“So what are you going to do?” I asked
“I’m going to keep going.” She answered.
I nodded.
She nodded.
Then I went downstairs to get the Windex, realizing I had
missed that mirror when I had cleaned this morning.
