otherwise perfect, this
moment became something
wholly unexpected
when the words
drifted from her lips.
well, i shouldn't say
that it was
wholly unexpected, but the
timing most certainly was.
the question brought
me back in a
way that usually only my
memory can.
"remember what we talked about that one time?"
that's what changed
the moment.
and that's not exactly
what she said, but
it's a close enough approximation.
"yeah," i said.
"when do you want to do it?"
"i don't know. when do you think i should do it?"
"anytime between now and whenever."
again, that's not exactly
what she said
but it's not the
exact words that matter.
"soon," i said.
"i want to know, you know, just to be sure."
her eyes nodded
and she disappeared from
the room,
off to check her
notes from
that first time.
while she was gone
i felt as alone
as i did that other
moment back then,
but not because i
was the only one
in the room.
my thoughts didn't
allow for anyone
else at that
moment, and for that
i'm sorry to both
of them,
one looking in
the mirror, unaware,
the other with
her hand in mine,
causing slight physical pain
in an attempt
to relieve something worse.
but it's as if
i wasn't there.
i was above my world,
(them)
floating on my
back, the cool mist
of the clouds
enveloping the me that
wasn't me.
seconds later
the door opened,
and she was peering in,
holding what she
went to get.
i hit the ground
with a thud,
but nothing was
broken. of course not,
i reminded myself.
i wasn't really where
i felt i was.
in my hand now.
it's the list.
the list of words
i'd seen before,
this time
on a different
piece of paper,
in a handwriting unusual
for someone in
her profession
(or so the stereotype goes).
i stared at it.
two thoughts:
1. this list has killed.
2. this list could **** again.
(that exactly how i said it in my head. that word doesn't exist in scenario #2. it can't. it won't).
i know it's
better to know,
but do you ever
wish you didn't know?
yeah.
me too.
Wish you werent so vague.... Kinda hard to relate to sometimes.
ReplyDeleteYes, I did not really understand this, but I am sure it has much meaning for you!
ReplyDeleteI have read this twice...I think I might get it now. Hmmmm....
ReplyDeleteI love the mystery. Even more, I love the description of an emotional reaction to something that is difficult to experience.
ReplyDeleteI, also, wish I understood this more because I love your writing. It moves me and I am sure if I had a better understanding of this entry it would be powerful like your other entries.
ReplyDeletedear anonymous, anonymous, and anonymous.
ReplyDeleteyeah, sorry about that.
sometimes it's easier for me to write in abstractions, especially when i'm talking about the death of my wife.
it comes from a 2.5 year period of reading nothing but fiction and poetry in which abstractions are used to convey feeling rather than a narrative story.
here it is in (somewhat) less abstract terms.
1. i took my daughter to the dr.
2. the dr. gave me a list of things i need to get my daughter tested for to ensure that she doesn't die from the same things that caused my wife's death.
3. the scene describes the way i felt after the dr. brought up the idea of getting my daughter tested.
sorry i lost you all there.
but read it again.
see if it makes anymore sense.
m.
Ah, genetics. My daughter is a carrier of what killed her dad. She (probably) will never be effected, but her children - if she chooses to have them after she finds out about the time bomb she could pass on - will be.
ReplyDeleteIn some ways, the genetic factor keeps the whole issue alive in ways that wouldn't have been issues if he'd just been run over by a truck or something.
But it's better to know, I think. Wishing you/her luck.
Wow. Thanks for the explanation. That was really cool. (I was way off-base when I was speculating, lol)
ReplyDeleteMatt,
ReplyDeleteWe have also dealt with this and all six of my children will have to be screened for the rest of their lives .... as will their children. And the suckiness continues ...
I knew it. I knew if I understood more of what was behind this post that I would be moved by your words. I did reread it and it was powerful. You have a gift with your writing. I am a bit embarrassed for prying but appreciate the fact that you shared. :)
ReplyDeleteOh so powerful Matt.
ReplyDelete