Monday, March 13, 2006

Help Me Forget

My heart doesn’t flitter any fly anymore. It used to skip and summersault and spin across the day. Now it just sits here, heavy, in my chest.

School is still in session; students keep crowding the campus; the highway is bustling with traffic; the sun still rises each morning; and every day more weeds grow in my garden. I go on about my day, while my chest aches, and my eyes burn, and I’m afraid my voice will give way and let out a deep, mournful cry.

I try to read my book, but I can’t concentrate. I wear obnoxiously happy clothes – pink and black striped tights today – but they don't even make me smile. I play my favorite CD again and again and then some more, but I find no solace in it. I’m too tired to phone my friend Jen.

The pub might help me forget, I think, so I stop by after class. Mr. Jack bought me a beer, and I sipped it slowly with lime. I listened to the stories – how to get rid of bee hives; how not to install insulation; what it was like to be an aerospace engineer during World War II. I didn’t tell my own – no one wants to hear about cancer and hospitals and pneumonia and little girls left behind. Music played on the jukebox while we ate our pretzels and smiled at the sweet bartender.

I head for the door, say goodbye to my new friends and go home to walk the dog. Maybe a few math problems will help me forget.


Anonymous said...

Jen - I know, not a very graceful or well written piece; the rhythm just doesn't sound right in my mind's ear. But it feels wonderfully refreshing to excavate that mess from my mind and soul and get it out onto (well, not paper, but) the electrons that are the blogosphere?...

jen said...

I think it's better than you're giving it credit for. A couple commas I wouldn't have used and a couple more I would've, but I'm no expert. The main thing is that it helped and you phoned. Is there more to say?