ImPerceptibility

Posts Tagged ‘tears’

I woke up and rolled over onto my back and looked up. There was a bird chirping in the tree I was sleeping under and I was hoping he would crap on me. It would have been a perfect start to the day but my wishes were unfulfilled. I laid there a little longer wondering what homeless people though when they first woke underneath a bridge, in a tunnel, or beside a tree? I thought maybe I should ask a few, maybe make a documentary, but then I realized I was probably better off not knowing.

The cornflakes did not taste like corn and the milk did not taste like milk. The bowl was nice, though. I remembered lumpy oatmeal I had eaten on a cold morning with the sun coming up over the mountains. My soul was filled to full with drunken conversations and music that made me cry happy, longing tears. Tears filled with promises and hope. Then I started crying, but these tears were different. They were lonely, homesick, angry, bitter tears and they wouldn’t stop.

“Fuck ‘em all” MyHusband whispered in my ear. “It’s just me and you.”

I put my buff on Jesse James style and begrudgingly fulfilled my obligations full of resentment and my unending stream of tears strategically hidden from view. “Fuck ‘em. I might be crying but they won’t see me cry.”

We set off and I began limping my way down the path, heading out for the next 15 miles of my journey.

The day went. There were good parts – Standing on top of a ridge arms outstretched. The wind blowing hard against me and cautiously balancing on the very tip top. Hoping not to fall. There were bad parts – Freakin’ blisters. But mostly there were just parts and I made my way through them. It was nice to see the hostel at the end of the day. Only two more days.

I was at the hostel having a nice conversation with Justin when I looked up. What I saw almost made me run. Something was making it’s way, slowly and painfully, into the room and it was a very strange color and it was frightening.

“Oh my Lord!” I thought. “That man has been attacked by a zombie!”

I quickly went through my emergency plans I have stored in my head and realized I did not have one labeled, “Zombie Attack Abroad” I decided to use my default plan. I asked Martin if I could get him some ice for his swollen severely sunburned knees. Much to my relief, after some rest and ibuprofen he seemed to be doing a little better.

Dinner that night was good – Veggie Lasagna – and once the doors in the hallway stopped banging every 30 seconds, so was sleep. It was a good night even if Ian didn’t seem to notice that Oli had short sheeted his bed.

I took that long walk today. The one that starts out on a wide gravel road then it gets smaller and smaller. It becomes nothing more than a space between trees. Dark and foreboding full of imagined snakes and real spiders, vine covered trees, and shadows. All the things that books and movie use to foreshadow doom. I was scared to walk there without you but it didn’t stop me.

I came to the train tracks, then a tunnel entrance covered with years worth of weeds. Honey suckle, poison ivy, and morning glories. Many years ago we decided it might be a metaphor for life. God, we were trashed that day! The vines were dormant and leafless for the winter but I knew they would be back in a few months and I knew I wouldn’t have the courage to cross them when they blossomed. I stood there until I felt I would loose my nerve, then I made myself continue on.

I pushed through brush, ducked under branches and crawled over fallen trees. My walk was coming to an end and each step was just a little slower than the last. Just past the sharp turn. I just had to make it past there.

I closed my eyes and stepped into the clearing. When I opened them it was like I remembered – but different. It wasn’t quite the same. I scanned the large gaping holes where men had gouged the gravel and sand from the earth. When they had taken everything they wanted they left it unattended, ugly and broken, alone to fend for itself. We loved that ugly place. We loved it because it was ours. No one else ever went there.

All these years later and the wounds were starting to heal. Grass and trees have grown. Sharp edges were softer. The water a little less stagnant. The light was filtered by the trees and the harshness was giving way to a aged softness. I wondered for a minute if it was a metaphor for life and I wasn’t even trashed.

No one but you and me would know why I went there. Most days I think we are the only ones that would even understand. Maybe the only people that would even care. I stayed for a long time but the time I spent didn’t make up for the time I had been away. When it was time for me to go I left behind my tears, markings from a paint stick, and a mostly full bottle of strawberry wine.

The walk back was shorter than I’d though it would be.