Beneath a blue camel, beyond flickering neon lights, I sit. This was my choice, this beer, this pizza, this escape. There were other plans, calmer plans, but my other half, my not-so-calm half, requested to change the plans.
Where are you?
She screams it.
I've lost everything... everything.
She sighs it.
She looks at me. She looks beyond me, beyond the ceiling, the room, out the window and beyond the tree tops, the sky. What she sees I have no idea but she is focusing there. There, mind you, not here.
Mom, I'm right here. Can you see me? I'm right here. You're okay.
She slowly turns her head to me, towards my voice. With little concern but great effort.
She looks right into my eyes and breathes her words with great concern, I don't know when your father is coming home. Sometimes I think he won't come home at all.
I take a breath, shut the door on her words, on my tears.
Be brave, I hear my father's voice tell me, be brave.
I think he is home, Mom.
Whispered, like her words, resigned like her words, I think he is home.
And I do, I really do. But how do I tell her? I look upward beyond the ceiling, the tree tops, the sky. I look upward to him.
Later in the car I tire of feeling, of bleeding. I sit rigid. Everything is fine, she's okay, I'm okay. No, really, I'm okay.
I look down at the cast on my arm. Foolish girl. I'm so angry with myself for how I handle (don't handle) the pain. But for tonight there's no room for the anger, or sorrow. No room to take it out on myself. Don't do it again, I tell myself. Painful lesson I've learned. Painful to hate and blame inward, and take it out on yourself. It occurs to me that no matter which direction I take, there is pain. I hear Be brave, but I want to scream, FUCK IT ALL. I mean, seriously, I do. Scream it out loud to the skies. But what would that do but startle the stars? I will not scream because I cannot. Because letting it go would be letting go. And that can't happen.
Instead I choose change. I choose a beer, a pizza, a blue neon camel flickering in the window. Simultaneously passing by and joining in is the circular rhythm of red ambulance lights. I watch the patterns across the room, think that beneath those lights are troubles belonging to someone else. I take a breath, feel the red circle through me, think about the lives passing by, think about Mom, think about quitting.
And then she walks through the door. To see me.
A friend. A smile. Her love, her laughter. Her. Compassion is given, understanding is inhaled, stories shared. In the moment I feel healed, alive, present. For the moment I feel joy. I look upward, thankfully. Friends. She feeds me with her presence, she feeds me with her laughter. I breathe her gifts. That she exists and I know her, that gift is all I need to feel good again.
I close my eyes and inhale it all, willing it to stay but knowing it will pass.
At home I tell myself that nothing has changed because nothing can change. But I'll tell you this much: Tonight a friend showed up. Just because she loves me. And her presence warmed and soothed me. It felt good and right and like the days when tomorrow wasn't a thought at all, much less a concern. She balanced the reality. She made it comfortable to breathe.
Tomorrow I'll be bedside again. I'll read Winnie the Pooh to my mother, because that's what we do these days. It's okay but it breaks my heart. Tonight I'm alright. I swing sleepily between the balance of the friend reaching in and the daughter reaching out.
This is what keeps me from the cliff's edge. Because it's enough. Because it has to be.
3 comments:
sometimes you need to scream. screaming at the stars will not startle them, my friend, and it's not letting go. theyve heard it all before countless times. your cries would mingle with mine and the stars would continue their vigil. in times past i have railed at the sky, screamed my voice away, shredded vocal chords to point of drawing blood. the stars are still there.
im praying for you, alison. im praying for your mother. im asking for strength for you.
this is beautifully written, but that is not the point is it.
Whoa, back up. Broken arm? When that happen?
As always, my litany is "Make sure to take care of yourself". If that means screaming, well, then, indulge in a little primal scream therapy. If that's beer and pizza with a friend, then make sure to take that time for yourself.
Just don't forget how important you are while you try to take care of everyone else's needs.
'ghost said' and 'network geek' pretty much covered it...you need to do what you need to do through times like these. How lucky your mother is to have you there, and how lucky you are to be able to be there for her.
Post a Comment