I can’t stop thinking about the man I encountered today, and not in the way that you would expect that I can’t stop thinking about a man.
An old man in a confused state came into the office today. I watched him proceed up the walk. He stopped half way, took his hat off and touched the top of his head in a way that seemed like he wanted to make sure it was still there. He walked very slowly in a meandering sort of way. I said “that guy looks lost”. I have to admit, I was hoping he would find his way, and that it wasn’t to the door of the office.
As he entered the building, I have to assume that he is a client of someone so I ask “How can I help you?” The first thing I notice are his eyes. A milky light blue color, no pupil, one skewed. I have scoured the internet for photos of eyes that resemble his and all I could find were ones of dogs with cataracts. He is bearded and moustached and grey. He was wearing bright blue. I don’t remember the type of garment it was whether it sweatshirt or jacket.
He spoke to me so many things incoherent as if he had his own language, like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in so long that he had forgotten how. The only thing I understood was “I need to talk to a priest”. That made a little sense because the building I work in used to be a rectory, at least 30 years ago? Must have been a long time since he has spoken with a priest. I told him kindly, “Honey, priests don’t live here anymore, this is a Real Estate office”. And directed him to the church across the way. He lingered at my desk with more offerings of jabber as I answered phone calls, not in an attempt to ignore him, but….that’s my job. Within those jabberings I comprehended “….someone to talk to”. I asked “are you okay?” and upon that, he left (very slowly), I opened the door for him. I was happy to see him go because all I could notice of our last moments together was the 3 inch drip of snot hanging from his nose, it was quite appalling.
I shouldve offered him a seat. I shouldve offered him my conversation. He was looking for someone to talk to. I shouldve offered him a tissue, or wiped his nose. What brings you to a place where you are seeking out a priest to talk to in all the wrong places? I should’ve at least walked him over to the church.
I am so ashamed of myself for treating this man with common courtesy when he clearly needed much more than that. I’m an asshole. All he needed was a conversation.
http://www.hopecenter.com/PetLibrary/Cataracts/tabid/163/Default.aspx
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
PUT ME BACK WHERE I BELONG
Somehow my mind thinks I’m meant to be spending my summer entertaining company out on the deck, overlooking the yard, attached to the house that I no longer live in and will never live in again.
I can feel the vinyl floor against my feet in the garage, I can see everything exactly how it was. I smell the cool breeze coming through the screen. I wait for the flowers and see the bees. Daffodils first, then tulips. Must be patient for the rhododendrons, peonies and lilies, the climax of the summer song.
I feel my feet in the pool and I fear the bees. I see Boomer wandering around in the yard and the neighbors cat perched on the fence staring at me through the window. I hear the neighbor’s country music blaring and I see her laying out on her deck collecting skin cancer.
I feel the driveway against my feet, I feel the porch and the grass. I pick the flowers and run from the bugs. Everything is coming back alive today at that house, I can feel it. Life is there now.
As for me, I can’t open the windows that I can barely see out of here. I need to let some life in. I almost want to break them, but they appear to already be broken, otherwise, they would open. I guess I can relate to the windows, anyway. I despise the feeling of this carpet against my feet. I hate the mess that is here in every sense of the word. I hate this mess that is me and that which I create.
I can feel the vinyl floor against my feet in the garage, I can see everything exactly how it was. I smell the cool breeze coming through the screen. I wait for the flowers and see the bees. Daffodils first, then tulips. Must be patient for the rhododendrons, peonies and lilies, the climax of the summer song.
I feel my feet in the pool and I fear the bees. I see Boomer wandering around in the yard and the neighbors cat perched on the fence staring at me through the window. I hear the neighbor’s country music blaring and I see her laying out on her deck collecting skin cancer.
I feel the driveway against my feet, I feel the porch and the grass. I pick the flowers and run from the bugs. Everything is coming back alive today at that house, I can feel it. Life is there now.
As for me, I can’t open the windows that I can barely see out of here. I need to let some life in. I almost want to break them, but they appear to already be broken, otherwise, they would open. I guess I can relate to the windows, anyway. I despise the feeling of this carpet against my feet. I hate the mess that is here in every sense of the word. I hate this mess that is me and that which I create.
A NOTE ON APATHY AND GIVING UP
I’m not sure what I want to feel. That’s probably a good place to be, to have no expectations from anyone = to have no disappointment. I fumble through one on one interactions with people I don’t know very well. I’ve lost the ability, if I ever had it, to dig into myself in order to divulge what I am feeling and/or thinking. I want there to be a story for you when you ask “what’s on your mind?”, but the words seem to fall off the page at moments like that. Its not that I am consciously holding anything back, its that I’m subconsciously making myself unavailable for interpretation.
I suppose, when I see the potential for emotional investment on my part, that’s what closes up my shop. Lately, I have laid myself out on everyone else’s table only to be dropped to the floor and devoured by dogs as discarded meal scraps. There isn’t much left to be nibbled on, I need time to replant, generate new produce to feed you. I need to know how hungry you are for it, if at all.
The fact that I had sex with someone whom, when asked “Do you like him?”, I say “I don’t know yet” …..its really sad. I’m actually disappointed in myself. That’s how I get to know people I guess. On the bright side, many things are accomplished with “sex at first meeting”. Such as,
A. You get to see if the goods are worth enduring any pursuing that may or may not follow.
B. “Well, we got that out of the way” First sex is never as good as second sex….save the second sex.
C. Affection & backrubs are delightful. Don’t EVER have sex with a guy you just met without getting a backrub….girl, have some respect for yourself!
D. Daylight- you gotta know if it all still looks good in the morning.
Anyway, that’s my justification for “giving the milk away”.
On a more specific note,
Analyzing the color of my eyes after we stared at the sky, watching clouds float by in a silence that should’ve been awkward . Remembering things that I have said and relating them to things that you have to say….”Like you said” has to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard out of a man’s mouth. Your voice, your smile, your touch…..its all good. It all makes me nervous and uncomfortable. Mummifies me. But, don't be sorry.
I suppose, when I see the potential for emotional investment on my part, that’s what closes up my shop. Lately, I have laid myself out on everyone else’s table only to be dropped to the floor and devoured by dogs as discarded meal scraps. There isn’t much left to be nibbled on, I need time to replant, generate new produce to feed you. I need to know how hungry you are for it, if at all.
The fact that I had sex with someone whom, when asked “Do you like him?”, I say “I don’t know yet” …..its really sad. I’m actually disappointed in myself. That’s how I get to know people I guess. On the bright side, many things are accomplished with “sex at first meeting”. Such as,
A. You get to see if the goods are worth enduring any pursuing that may or may not follow.
B. “Well, we got that out of the way” First sex is never as good as second sex….save the second sex.
C. Affection & backrubs are delightful. Don’t EVER have sex with a guy you just met without getting a backrub….girl, have some respect for yourself!
D. Daylight- you gotta know if it all still looks good in the morning.
Anyway, that’s my justification for “giving the milk away”.
On a more specific note,
Analyzing the color of my eyes after we stared at the sky, watching clouds float by in a silence that should’ve been awkward . Remembering things that I have said and relating them to things that you have to say….”Like you said” has to be the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard out of a man’s mouth. Your voice, your smile, your touch…..its all good. It all makes me nervous and uncomfortable. Mummifies me. But, don't be sorry.
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