Away Room

A Monday. A tornado encircling our area again. Potential tornado weather for the rest of the day.

I went to see my grandson. So great to see those little smiles. Human reminders of why we are here. Simple and reoccurring miracles revealing what has endured the test of time – purity. I feel remnants of this time are carried in the center of us. Saving us from self destruction.

I didn’t get the job. My heart sank for about five minutes. Then I just made a fresh pot of coffee and sat outside buried in thought. Thoughts. Mind drugs. I thought of a friend that found me the other day. Last time I seen her was when I was in a boarding school. We arrived around the same time and both carried the same look on our face – afraid and timid. We were around seven or eight years old coming from homes that provided enough life experience to ensure a full understanding of survival. After a few days we established the washroom as the 'away room'. A place where we could talk about home and anything else going on at the school. During one of our away moments she produced a small brown paper bag. The kind used to pack our snacks. She had her hands wrapped around the neck of the bag and blew into it like a balloon. Then took a deep breath in then out again. She sat for a moment and then handed the bag to me. I didn’t ask her what it was but when I took it I could smell nail polish. Then I realized what she was doing – sniffing. I had seen my cousin do the same thing with shoe polish back home. I hated the smell and it gave me a headache. I don’t remember how I let her know I didn’t like it but I do remember making a face when I brought the bag to my nose. That was it. I watched her eyes change as she continued with the bag holding it at the bottom and breathing in and out. We didn't talk. I remember feeling sad as I watched her fade away from me. I thought of the boy who would wander the streets smelling like shoe polish. My uncle told me he poisoned his brain and before it could explode he jumped off the power building falling onto the cement. I wasn’t there but my mind always carried an image of the boy standing on the edge crying as he jumped to his death. Drugs terrified me. Losing my mind wasn’t so inviting then.

It was good to hear from her. I was told she had passed on years ago. Why would anyone say that? I guess the same reason they would say that about me. Most are shocked to know I am still alive. Another life, another time. Wow how far we have come. Another day with more writing and more resumes to send out.