Time Stands Still

I would have laughed at the irony if I hadn’t been so afraid, terrified by the sudden possibility of our story ending. I was baking fish sticks when your sister called to tell me what happened. Summer Saturday nights were a treat after radiology rotation; there were lavender scented candles and lovey-dovey playlists, and old denim, and your shirts, and fruity drinks on your star studded patio. The long insanity of the work week seemed to fade away, the depressing feel of wrinkled scrubs, and loud pagers, and mundane paper work all almost forgotten. I had music and finger food, and invariably you; with your goofy house shoes and miserable plants and your guitar. Your apartment terribly masculine, many grays and blacks and steel, and yet on the mantel by the childhood picture you wouldn’t let me see for the longest time, a yellow and green water gun sat waiting. Waiting for you to return, and in one smooth move fill it and possibly piss me off when you wet my hair again. We waited me and the water gun. Until the phone rang, with the explanation for the delay in a shaken voice on the other side. Your Chrysler was totaled by an eighteen wheeler, sending you to ICU. Leaving me with the song you left on repeat, still on repeat. Musicsoulchild’s ‘Don’t Change’, a warm ballad about the permanence you wanted, about stability, and perhaps forever? How could I still believe in forever with everything so fragile and breakable? Now in retrospect I can see that the writing always is on the wall. We have this moment, here and now-but forever, we can only hope for, sometimes through the dark alleys we grope for light, for some chance that maybe dreams will come true; and love will stay alive. That despite all the walls into which we continue to collide somehow we will come out intact, our bruises healed with time, leaving beautiful scars where wounds once were the only marker of the roads we had walked. I sat with you that night and you never once moved, and finally I understood why when you hug me time stands still.

Hiding under a soft ivory colored comforter she thought back to a cool autumn night, on a second floor balcony. The air smelled funny; a wicked blend of many exhaust fumes and paper factory bi-products. There was a drink in her hand, a grape fanta gone flat and it tasted funny too. Nothing seemed even remotely normal at the time. She had hoped things would change, that she would find her footing, maybe even start to love the change a little. But enough time passing hadn’t changed her initial take on things. Yes, she had grown and found the kind of stability born out of accepting the whirlwind that life is determined to be. She had tried to come to terms with the continued madness, unpredictability, and oh, the utter confusion! Tonight while the past weighed heavily in her heart, the future stood beaconing in her mind. And she lay there quietly, her tiny frame completely swallowed by her covers, watching the shadows of the graduation cap and gown she had picked up that day, dancing on her bedroom wall in the soft yellow candle light.
From the doorway where he stood watching her, the light hit his wings ever so slightly. He knew that if she turned that way and let her heart believe for a minute, she would see him, and she would know he had been there all along. But she did not turn, always sleeping on her side; he heard the soft sigh when she went to sleep. And he smiled. Proud of her, even though he knew angels shouldn’t be proud of these things.

To Allie,because I know that you know.

To The Blog Princess

and the rest of us, twenty somethings or not-who look fondly upon this season of life.

Today you are twenty, and I am going to get you wasted among other things. When you finally wake up tomorrow (I will be in stat. class nursing a hangover), you might sit really still trying to feel the difference between decades. The teens and twenties are light years apart; your dreams are going to change, along with your wardrobe, sense of self, choice of syrup at the coffee drive through, even the soft traffic hold up expletives you mumble under your breath practicing that patience they say adults have-even those quiet profanities will vary a little. The wonderful thing is, all this happens gradually. A few months, a few years…the duration of this evolution is generally unknown. In it however, great things will happen. Yes, life seems to derive a new dark pleasure in scaring you, with responsibilities, and deadlines and expectations and tough decisions. You will however, counter that with many adventures, unbelievable milestones, stolen elevator kisses, journal entries that will make you smile and cry many, many years later. The gods of the twenties are generally kind gods! All they ask is that you are true to the goddess within (and I know you already know how to do that). In return, you get to unwrap the continuing gift that life is, with all its stellar moments, and cozy winters, grace for every trial, caramel lattes, tequila shots and the magical unfolding of your future. No, I don’t have any answers, and you will not. No one ever does. We just get on the roller coaster and enjoy the ride. You join the fun today and we are glad to have you. Happy Birthday Blog Princess!!!