Monday, February 16, 2009
Hi everyone! I'm posting a small portion of my new essay, "The Washout." I don't know where it's going, but I'm sure I'll post it in its entirety at some point. Thanks for reading!
As I searched for the bride's $25 dollar tiara by the light of the full moon through four garbage bags, I wanted to weep. Not because I was a stranger to humiliation, not out of any misguided sense of lost youth. Both my parents and my friend had died in the last few years. Not because I wasn't the bride, not because I had enough champagne in my system to last through Truman Capote's Black and White Ball. No, I wanted to weep because I had an awful foreboding that I could not shake. The light from the moon illuminated everything in this wondrous way. True to my nature, I just wanted the world to be dark again.
Surrounded by tubes, the nurse soothed me. “No wonder you think you’re in Pizza Hut. It’s all this spaghetti around your neck.” My arms were covered with bruises and scratches where I had fought against the doctors and eventually restraints. The morphine kept me under a lot of the time until I got well enough to be moved to the surgical trauma unit. But before that, I was listed in critical condition and often hallucinated the kind doctor’s face as he leaned over me to prep me for surgery saying, "We’re very worried about you. You could die. You’re a very sick girl.” And for those days I prayed to either get well or die. My soul felt like that tiara -- fake, worthless, buried so deep in garbage that God might never find it.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"All children have to be deceived if they are to grow up without trauma." Kazuo Ishiguro
Hope you enjoyed the Three Cherry Buddha! Suggestions for Friday?
Benedictions and Maledictions