Wretch
The house was quiet. The dogs had quieted down from my arrival. I sat and wondered if my parents would be angry tomorrow for my showing up so late. My brother was at the back of the property, no doubt, in his trailer. He enjoyed having moved from my room, then from there into his own room and then into his own space. Lucky him. The silence tonight was defening. The paper thin walls that usually would provide a hum from a tv or my parents talking offered no comfort other than possibly the hum of a highway or whatever other sounds of passing cars late in the night.
I felt myself drifting under the now warm covers. I felt the colors and images of spuractic visions play across my eyelids, numbing my senses. A whining and moaning now entered my lucid state. My visions continued to play the sounds becoming much more intense. A violent ripping interrupted the serenity of my visions. My eyes open. A wretching squelch vibrated through the silence of my room. Was I dreaming? Were the nightmares going to start so soon?
Again a violent noise disrupted my comfort. I sat up. Listening intently now I strained to find this horrific noise. Again, it ripped through me. The vision in my head was now violent, although I was fully sobered by the noise. I pressed my ear to the wall that ajoined my parents room to my own.
Wretching. I called out to my mother, no response. Wretching....
"Mommy?" ....a terror ripped through my innocent mind. Eyes wide, my heart raced waiting for an answer.
"Help me..." The wretching had stopped, My heart had stopped, my breathing had stopped. I rose to my knees clenching my covers. My chin shivered...A whine cleared through the room, it was my own.
"MOM!"
"Anna, get your dad...I need help.................................Im dying in here"
"DYING? My dad?" I thought, "where in the hell was he?" His truck was in the driveway. He was not in the living room, where in the hell else would he be?
Wretch. The sound refocused me. What was happening? Is she hurt? Is she vomiting? Choking? Has someone hurt her? Why was the sound so violent? I had not heard a sound this intense before. It squalled much like I had heard dinosaurs on tv do. WRETCH.
With that I sprung to me feet and I hit the black hallway in what seemed to be instantaneously...... WRETCH.
I looked into the living room, rather confused on what to do. I stood motionless, quiet, the only sensations I could feel was the buzzing from the quiet intermissions, between the ripping sound and the hot tears that ran down steadily from my eyes. My own breath stung, I was in a state of sheer terror when I realized I was alone.
The beat of my heart felt too big for my chest and I walked to the living room quietly. The sound was interrupted by the loud ringing of my kitchen phone. The way my heart jumped reminded me of how I felt watching horror flicks in movies. I went to the phone, hurried, to make the too loud noise stop. Who would be on the other end?
"....Hello?" I sniffed.
"This is 911 we have a call that there is an emergency....." What?
"Hello, is there someone there needing help?" I began to sob, barely able to function. Yes. There was. I has terrified, I had no idea how to put into words what was happening, because for one, I had no idea myself.
"Are you there alone? Is anyone else there with you?" ...Dad, where was he? The RV. This wasnt the first time. He had stayed out there, not often, but on the occasion they would fight. This would be his retreat.
"My dad maybe in the motor home...I am alone in the house with my mother."
The voiced urged me to check. Why now, I do not know, would anyone send a child to "gopher" while an unknown emergency was in the works.
I dropped the phone, the wretching was now clear in the distance again. I ran. My bare feet hitting the porch, to the concrete, to the gravel drive that spread the distance of the driveway between me and the RV. I yelled for my dad somewhere between. I hit the RV door my dad was already there standing clearly in the same confused state of myself. He cussed and reentered the back of the motor home. When he came out I followed.
We entered the house, he went to the back, I went to the phone. I told the silent end of the phone my father was here. The voice replied to stay on the line and that help was nearby. Somewhere there in the silence, I fell into a ball on the floor. The silence quickly became chaos as the house was filled with strangers. I sat on the ground, hanging up the phone, watching boots and wheels roll across our floor of our hallway...I got to my feet and followed. No one seemed to notice me meekly following. Our small hallway was at capacity. Radio noises and frequencies filled the long distant quiet of our home.
I slid into our lit front bathroom connected to the hallway and I sat back into my ball and listened. My forehead rest onto my knees and I hugged my legs. A voice was there. I looked up to find a face next to mine, telling me to get up and come with them. The paramedic led me to my livingroom now algow.
I sat on my couch, time had passed but, how much I do not know. I looked out the window to glowing red flashing red lights. The occasional blue shown through. Strangers overtook my house as quickly as the whole strangeness of my night had.
Some how again...my heart stops again and my terror takes over as I see a stretcher emerge from the hallway. Panic and disorder overtakes my horror and I am silent. I cannot cry. I cannot react as her eyes meet mine. A strangers arm wraps my soulders, but there is no comfort in this cold. My mind goes blank and I cannot remember a reaction or the next steps of our long night. In a house full of help... I am helpless. In a house full of people... I am alone.
Tuesday
थे ड्रिवे पत. 3
The Day
I guess much could be said about the day that the world changed for me. I was an average 13 year old kid I guess. I started to feel the need to be my own person and do things as I wanted. What now I feel could have been easily miscontrued as my being a selfish brat at the time, to me at that time was me just wanting to be with my friends versus my family and the same hum drum of another day growing up in East Nicolaus. I wanted to be anywhere but here. I couldn't stand the thought of too much alone time with my mom who had been different this week. The day was April 1, 1990. April Fools Day.
My bestfriend at the time was leaving for the afternoon to a family function. This meant me being left to fend for myself in boring Rio Oso. Nothing to do within miles. No cable television. No friends. Only an overly messy room to clean. Not my favorite activity. Of course, Chrissy and I had devised a plan to talk our parents into letting me go with her. She was not thrilled about spending the day in Sutter alone with the adults. Im sure we could find some trouble in even more boring Sutter. As pre-teens will do, we cleared it with her parents before knowing if my parents would go for it. In my mind I was already going.
I had proposed the idea to my mother who had been up doing much of whatever it is that she did. I know she had been up late the night before, out with my dad, as she had done frequently through the week. I had not talked to her since earlier the day before as many of the days we spent in the last few weeks. Apparently this is not how she wanted to spend the first two seconds of our conversation, already in the argumentative staure that I was. She was quick to shoot my idea down and I was quick to argue back. For some reason this morning I felt particularly brave and stood ground with her. This lasted for who knows how long before she gave in and just told me to get out of her face. I did so gleefully, deciding with myself I would deal with the backlash later. She probably wouldnt be there when I got home anyways. She'd have bigger fish to fry the next day, like my dad. Cake. I got away with getting what I wanted out of her.
My parents fought often enough that, I didn't react much anymore. I just wanted out of the house, around some normalcy. The fighting seemed to consume much of family time. I sought refuge in others families. This was my escape, I felt I was entitled to it. Chrissy was my refuge. She was my bestfriend. She was the only one beside my brothers who truly understood. She had been there many of nights when things would get ugly. I can't recall my parents ever being too good at censoring themselves in front of her.
I had escaped to her house many nights without the consent of my parents. They always knew where I was even if my escaping was unnannouced. The other moments of escape included my oldest brother coming home. He never stayed long. I imagine it was for the same reasons I wanted to leave as well. I dreaded him leaving. I often fantasized in my own head about living with him. I felt safe with him. He was like my protector.
The tension in the house sometimes was thick. I didnt really get it. My parents would go out about their business dressed up, my dad smelling of his best cologne. Smiling and carrying on, Ronnie and I left alone to fend for ourselves. Which was fine, we preferred it at times. We were happy in each others company, most of the time. This was normal for us. Our normal lives would always be interrupted, only to be woken up late hours of the night to screaming and yelling.
A few nights before this particular night my mom had come home stumbling. I knew I was in trouble already by her swagger as she eyed me from the living room. I was in the kitchen. I was to have the dishes done before she came home. I hated that chore with a passion. I put it off, she came home sooner than I thought she would. Obviously my father and her had gotten into an argument at the bar and she was already inebreated and ticked off.
She approached me and I could see her raging. She was furious I had blantantly ignored her orders before she left. She had said things to me that night she has never, would never have said to me before. Her words were sharp and coarse all at the same time. I felt belittled and I was truly in fear of her like I had never felt before. She walked around the center divide eyeing much as a predator would its prey, slurring her words in a condesending manor. I back stepped around trying to keep the furthest distance between us and keepin my hands up defensively.
This was not the same woman I had lived with for 13 years. Something had changed and I was terrified of this person. To this day, I try not to think of what she had said to me that night. Im not even sure she even realized her own words. I had doubted she even remembered that night. Perhaps her words she used on me were her own reflection of how she felt of herself. I will never know.
Today I was defiant. I still held close the previous night in the week. At some point through this all, I didnt care much about reprecussions. I just wanted to be away. Today was one of those.
The day in Sutter was much like ones I had spent with Chrissy times before. Almost uneventful, running the streets, galavanting with neighborhood kids and a few cousins of hers, Im sure. Once inside we were preparing to eat. The table was full of food. Her and I kid around, horse playing alittle. Carrying over the cruel April Fools jokes that had dissapated from the outdoor activies of the neighborhood.
I innocently played the popular "you have a spider in your hair" joke on her...I was pleased to see her freak out alittle and it was all that much better to her pleading for me to remove it. I laughed obnoxiously knowing my prank had pulled over so effortlessly that ,I of course, in victory annouced to the room, "APRIL FOOLS!" Her grandmother stopped dead in what she was doing, glaring at me. Chrissys expression changed quickly too, hurrying me from the table by my elbow. I of course was alittle confused thinking, okay, I pissed her off with my big mouth.
In the living room Chrissy hushed and quickly told me not to do that again. I felt stupid, although I was still alittle confused on exactly why I got the reaction I did. I was playing. I meant no harm. She then told me her grandfather had died of a heart attack on April Fools some years back, not far after playing some April Fools joke on the grandmother. At that time I was moritified. I felt ridiculous having done such a careless thing, of course knowing I wouldn't have known better, unless told so forth hand. The rest of my uncomfortable evening there was long and could not pass fast enough. Im sure the event was bigger to my 13 year old mind that it was to anyone elses.
That night we came in late. The dogs howled protectively as the headlights grazed across their faces and glowing eyes in the back yard. To my surprise my mothers brown Toyota was in the driveway and also my dad's yellow pickup. Our RV that had rarely moved was also in sight. As I ran up I hushed them and they whined sadly, recognizing me as it seemed only by my foot steps.
The house was quiet and black. Much like every other night in East Nicolaus. The inside of the trailer was as cold as the outside. I came in and to the bathroom. I dilly dallied with brushing my teeth and washing my face. I went straight to my room and it was so cold I dreaded disrobing. I found my night shirt from the morning before still laying on my bed where I had left it. I swiftly pulled my jacket off. The cold outside of the plastic feeling material of its sleeves nipped at my finger tips. I pull my shirt off and slipped into the cold night shirt. I quickly slipped under my dishevled covers, too frozen to remove my jeans. I shook wishing I had an electric blanket to come home to.
I guess much could be said about the day that the world changed for me. I was an average 13 year old kid I guess. I started to feel the need to be my own person and do things as I wanted. What now I feel could have been easily miscontrued as my being a selfish brat at the time, to me at that time was me just wanting to be with my friends versus my family and the same hum drum of another day growing up in East Nicolaus. I wanted to be anywhere but here. I couldn't stand the thought of too much alone time with my mom who had been different this week. The day was April 1, 1990. April Fools Day.
My bestfriend at the time was leaving for the afternoon to a family function. This meant me being left to fend for myself in boring Rio Oso. Nothing to do within miles. No cable television. No friends. Only an overly messy room to clean. Not my favorite activity. Of course, Chrissy and I had devised a plan to talk our parents into letting me go with her. She was not thrilled about spending the day in Sutter alone with the adults. Im sure we could find some trouble in even more boring Sutter. As pre-teens will do, we cleared it with her parents before knowing if my parents would go for it. In my mind I was already going.
I had proposed the idea to my mother who had been up doing much of whatever it is that she did. I know she had been up late the night before, out with my dad, as she had done frequently through the week. I had not talked to her since earlier the day before as many of the days we spent in the last few weeks. Apparently this is not how she wanted to spend the first two seconds of our conversation, already in the argumentative staure that I was. She was quick to shoot my idea down and I was quick to argue back. For some reason this morning I felt particularly brave and stood ground with her. This lasted for who knows how long before she gave in and just told me to get out of her face. I did so gleefully, deciding with myself I would deal with the backlash later. She probably wouldnt be there when I got home anyways. She'd have bigger fish to fry the next day, like my dad. Cake. I got away with getting what I wanted out of her.
My parents fought often enough that, I didn't react much anymore. I just wanted out of the house, around some normalcy. The fighting seemed to consume much of family time. I sought refuge in others families. This was my escape, I felt I was entitled to it. Chrissy was my refuge. She was my bestfriend. She was the only one beside my brothers who truly understood. She had been there many of nights when things would get ugly. I can't recall my parents ever being too good at censoring themselves in front of her.
I had escaped to her house many nights without the consent of my parents. They always knew where I was even if my escaping was unnannouced. The other moments of escape included my oldest brother coming home. He never stayed long. I imagine it was for the same reasons I wanted to leave as well. I dreaded him leaving. I often fantasized in my own head about living with him. I felt safe with him. He was like my protector.
The tension in the house sometimes was thick. I didnt really get it. My parents would go out about their business dressed up, my dad smelling of his best cologne. Smiling and carrying on, Ronnie and I left alone to fend for ourselves. Which was fine, we preferred it at times. We were happy in each others company, most of the time. This was normal for us. Our normal lives would always be interrupted, only to be woken up late hours of the night to screaming and yelling.
A few nights before this particular night my mom had come home stumbling. I knew I was in trouble already by her swagger as she eyed me from the living room. I was in the kitchen. I was to have the dishes done before she came home. I hated that chore with a passion. I put it off, she came home sooner than I thought she would. Obviously my father and her had gotten into an argument at the bar and she was already inebreated and ticked off.
She approached me and I could see her raging. She was furious I had blantantly ignored her orders before she left. She had said things to me that night she has never, would never have said to me before. Her words were sharp and coarse all at the same time. I felt belittled and I was truly in fear of her like I had never felt before. She walked around the center divide eyeing much as a predator would its prey, slurring her words in a condesending manor. I back stepped around trying to keep the furthest distance between us and keepin my hands up defensively.
This was not the same woman I had lived with for 13 years. Something had changed and I was terrified of this person. To this day, I try not to think of what she had said to me that night. Im not even sure she even realized her own words. I had doubted she even remembered that night. Perhaps her words she used on me were her own reflection of how she felt of herself. I will never know.
Today I was defiant. I still held close the previous night in the week. At some point through this all, I didnt care much about reprecussions. I just wanted to be away. Today was one of those.
The day in Sutter was much like ones I had spent with Chrissy times before. Almost uneventful, running the streets, galavanting with neighborhood kids and a few cousins of hers, Im sure. Once inside we were preparing to eat. The table was full of food. Her and I kid around, horse playing alittle. Carrying over the cruel April Fools jokes that had dissapated from the outdoor activies of the neighborhood.
I innocently played the popular "you have a spider in your hair" joke on her...I was pleased to see her freak out alittle and it was all that much better to her pleading for me to remove it. I laughed obnoxiously knowing my prank had pulled over so effortlessly that ,I of course, in victory annouced to the room, "APRIL FOOLS!" Her grandmother stopped dead in what she was doing, glaring at me. Chrissys expression changed quickly too, hurrying me from the table by my elbow. I of course was alittle confused thinking, okay, I pissed her off with my big mouth.
In the living room Chrissy hushed and quickly told me not to do that again. I felt stupid, although I was still alittle confused on exactly why I got the reaction I did. I was playing. I meant no harm. She then told me her grandfather had died of a heart attack on April Fools some years back, not far after playing some April Fools joke on the grandmother. At that time I was moritified. I felt ridiculous having done such a careless thing, of course knowing I wouldn't have known better, unless told so forth hand. The rest of my uncomfortable evening there was long and could not pass fast enough. Im sure the event was bigger to my 13 year old mind that it was to anyone elses.
That night we came in late. The dogs howled protectively as the headlights grazed across their faces and glowing eyes in the back yard. To my surprise my mothers brown Toyota was in the driveway and also my dad's yellow pickup. Our RV that had rarely moved was also in sight. As I ran up I hushed them and they whined sadly, recognizing me as it seemed only by my foot steps.
The house was quiet and black. Much like every other night in East Nicolaus. The inside of the trailer was as cold as the outside. I came in and to the bathroom. I dilly dallied with brushing my teeth and washing my face. I went straight to my room and it was so cold I dreaded disrobing. I found my night shirt from the morning before still laying on my bed where I had left it. I swiftly pulled my jacket off. The cold outside of the plastic feeling material of its sleeves nipped at my finger tips. I pull my shirt off and slipped into the cold night shirt. I quickly slipped under my dishevled covers, too frozen to remove my jeans. I shook wishing I had an electric blanket to come home to.
Thursday
My Story The Drive (Pt. 2)
The Drive
Driving down that highway not much was being said, I could see his tension, by the grasp on his steering wheel. Sometimes memories are best remember by the small things that happen. Not the actual event at hand, but by the surroundings. I remember the exact moment. The exact place. The merge heading north to Marysville, 70 and 65. Thats when he said the words that make me shiver on this morning. I can feel the coldness of the cab of his truck. The roughness of the motor of his little yellow Chevy pickup truck as it struggled to move fast, though the road never seemed to advance. "If she makes it through this Anna, I will have to divorce her. I cannot take this anymore..." I jolted in my seat, hands in my lap. The sound reverberated through me like a red hot pinball starting in my head...down my throat, resting in the pit of my stomach............. IF.
I was fairly sure although the sensation was great, that I had not moved. The dryness in my open eyes had told that me after blinking a few times. A voiced crept through that cold cab after a few moments of processing. "okay...".
I had not been sure, but without thought, I was fairly sure the voice was my own. The hot ball in my stomach lay dormant. The fire was cold. The rest of my trip to the hospital was quiet. Eucalyptus sillouette flashing by the highways edge kept my blank thoughts, comforting me. Why could I not cry now? Im sure a protection mechanism created by my own body had kept the tears back. The "IF" had definately got a reaction out of me, why was it not consuming me now? Or had it and I was in too much shock to realize it? Somehow that "if" was bigger than I wanted to believe. Perhaps I knew that "if" was all to present...perhaps my heart had already accepted she wasnt going to make it at all.
Arrival and time inbetween is lost. My faded black jeans were holey in the knees, the lady beside me read a newspaper, a kid was on the floor playing with cars. He loudly zoomed past my feet, glaring at me occassionally, obviously knowing he was irritating me. But why could I not remember how I got there. I can still remember the old ER like it was still standing today. I sat closest to the door back to the Emergency door entrance. I stared around the room. I could see faces of the sick, and faces that were even far off better than where I was at the moment.
This whole world was happening around me and not one face seemed to realize where I was, or where I had been in the hours prior. Except one face, the lady with the paper, who frequently peeked at me from the corner of her eye. I adjusted in my seat. She did too. I got up to get a drink at the fountain. Pointy paper cup, metallic water...one drink that would last over the next hour, I'd assume. I dumped it after the first sip. Time held no frame here. In my mind a ice bluish, clincal atmosphere holds me. I sat in a seat facing the doors, nervously awaiting my fathers face to peer through to let me back. Little did I know how long that wait would be.
The hole in the knee of my jeans held my attention for alittle while, how it got there I have no memory of. But why in this moment does it intrigue me so? I picked until i had a small ball of it in my hand. I glanced up to meet the stare of the same woman. I looked away, to look back and see her still peering at me over her the top of her paper, glancing over glasses that I felt the urge to push back up with a pointed finger. I felt this woman could see my thoughts. The house, the paramedics, the sounds. The horrible sounds. I felt a sense of shame. I shivered and shifted again.
The doors came open and I was at attention again. My dad. I can barely remember his face at this point. How much time had passed? We walked through the doors and the sounds were different, low murmurs and hums of voices throughout the halls. Beeping. The beeping was loud and annoying in my thoughts. My mind had been so quiet and dull. These sounds were different. Somehow my reality had shifted. I looked around for any familiar face to only find faces peering back at me much like the woman had in the waiting room. Over glasses, over papers...conversations stopping, backs turning. Why did this bother me so?
I turned a corner still occupied by the faces, to a hand on my shoulder redirecting me. It was my dad. I refocused and turned. There she was. I stopped. My breath had stopped. My mind jolted again. A wave of flush washed over me head to toe. My chest was clenched by an invisibile force. My heart crumpled. I felt the urge to fold. This was her, but this was not. I stood beside her still focused, had I not breathed yet? Her hand reached out to me, I retracted. A wave of anger flew over me. The tears came. I looked at my dad, I saw his reaction too. He had the same angry face I felt showing through on my own.
I turned to my father, buried face to his chest and wept. I glanced back at her pale white sweaty face. Pink bucket on her lap heaving heavily under her struggling breaths, her bed in a sitting position. Hands to her side in obvious effort to breathe, she stared at the ceiling. At a time like this, she stares at the ceiling, when my focus was completely on her. At some time I had turned fully facing her, I had not felt myself move, but this is how I stood. Squared, fists tight. I stared at her.
The voice that had emerged from me had not been my own. It was loud. It was furious. It was....honest. "I HATE YOU, How can you do this to us?.......". My dad's hands grasped my shoulders. Her face still facing the ceiling above never shifted. Never looking at me, her eyes closed. Her stature never changed. I got no answer. Overwhelmed by the severity of everything suddenly falling around me, I could not stand before her anymore.
My feet moved and yet my head stayed right in that room. Every word I wanted to say overwhelmed my thoughts. Had I been reciting my anger aloud? I do not know, all I can remember is hitting those same doors with the same anticipation I had entered them. Anxious to walk through them....my mind dulls and I cannot remember much else of my night......
Its funny how the mind can play tricks. I can remember the wood grain of the old hospital doors. I can remember the people, not so much faces. I can remember the blue of the walls, the hum of my fathers truck engine. I can remember that ball of jean balled into my fist walking back down that hall. But I cannot remember leaving that hospital. I cannot remember going home or the long drive to get there. Im sure my father or I had something to say. Why did those thoughts evade me now?
But yet, I can still vididly recall the throbbing of my feet the rocks had left or the shoes I wore. How can I remember the dishevled red of my hair as I stared sullenly into the mirror of the hospital bathrooms mirror? How can I remember the night shirt I still wore, wishing I had dressed warmer? Why could I not remember regretting my words? Why could I not remember wondering if she was going to pull through? WHY? Perhaps I already knew, but my body just hadnt disgested it just yet. My limbs hadnt gotten the news, just yet, that my life had just changed, forever.
Driving down that highway not much was being said, I could see his tension, by the grasp on his steering wheel. Sometimes memories are best remember by the small things that happen. Not the actual event at hand, but by the surroundings. I remember the exact moment. The exact place. The merge heading north to Marysville, 70 and 65. Thats when he said the words that make me shiver on this morning. I can feel the coldness of the cab of his truck. The roughness of the motor of his little yellow Chevy pickup truck as it struggled to move fast, though the road never seemed to advance. "If she makes it through this Anna, I will have to divorce her. I cannot take this anymore..." I jolted in my seat, hands in my lap. The sound reverberated through me like a red hot pinball starting in my head...down my throat, resting in the pit of my stomach............. IF.
I was fairly sure although the sensation was great, that I had not moved. The dryness in my open eyes had told that me after blinking a few times. A voiced crept through that cold cab after a few moments of processing. "okay...".
I had not been sure, but without thought, I was fairly sure the voice was my own. The hot ball in my stomach lay dormant. The fire was cold. The rest of my trip to the hospital was quiet. Eucalyptus sillouette flashing by the highways edge kept my blank thoughts, comforting me. Why could I not cry now? Im sure a protection mechanism created by my own body had kept the tears back. The "IF" had definately got a reaction out of me, why was it not consuming me now? Or had it and I was in too much shock to realize it? Somehow that "if" was bigger than I wanted to believe. Perhaps I knew that "if" was all to present...perhaps my heart had already accepted she wasnt going to make it at all.
Arrival and time inbetween is lost. My faded black jeans were holey in the knees, the lady beside me read a newspaper, a kid was on the floor playing with cars. He loudly zoomed past my feet, glaring at me occassionally, obviously knowing he was irritating me. But why could I not remember how I got there. I can still remember the old ER like it was still standing today. I sat closest to the door back to the Emergency door entrance. I stared around the room. I could see faces of the sick, and faces that were even far off better than where I was at the moment.
This whole world was happening around me and not one face seemed to realize where I was, or where I had been in the hours prior. Except one face, the lady with the paper, who frequently peeked at me from the corner of her eye. I adjusted in my seat. She did too. I got up to get a drink at the fountain. Pointy paper cup, metallic water...one drink that would last over the next hour, I'd assume. I dumped it after the first sip. Time held no frame here. In my mind a ice bluish, clincal atmosphere holds me. I sat in a seat facing the doors, nervously awaiting my fathers face to peer through to let me back. Little did I know how long that wait would be.
The hole in the knee of my jeans held my attention for alittle while, how it got there I have no memory of. But why in this moment does it intrigue me so? I picked until i had a small ball of it in my hand. I glanced up to meet the stare of the same woman. I looked away, to look back and see her still peering at me over her the top of her paper, glancing over glasses that I felt the urge to push back up with a pointed finger. I felt this woman could see my thoughts. The house, the paramedics, the sounds. The horrible sounds. I felt a sense of shame. I shivered and shifted again.
The doors came open and I was at attention again. My dad. I can barely remember his face at this point. How much time had passed? We walked through the doors and the sounds were different, low murmurs and hums of voices throughout the halls. Beeping. The beeping was loud and annoying in my thoughts. My mind had been so quiet and dull. These sounds were different. Somehow my reality had shifted. I looked around for any familiar face to only find faces peering back at me much like the woman had in the waiting room. Over glasses, over papers...conversations stopping, backs turning. Why did this bother me so?
I turned a corner still occupied by the faces, to a hand on my shoulder redirecting me. It was my dad. I refocused and turned. There she was. I stopped. My breath had stopped. My mind jolted again. A wave of flush washed over me head to toe. My chest was clenched by an invisibile force. My heart crumpled. I felt the urge to fold. This was her, but this was not. I stood beside her still focused, had I not breathed yet? Her hand reached out to me, I retracted. A wave of anger flew over me. The tears came. I looked at my dad, I saw his reaction too. He had the same angry face I felt showing through on my own.
I turned to my father, buried face to his chest and wept. I glanced back at her pale white sweaty face. Pink bucket on her lap heaving heavily under her struggling breaths, her bed in a sitting position. Hands to her side in obvious effort to breathe, she stared at the ceiling. At a time like this, she stares at the ceiling, when my focus was completely on her. At some time I had turned fully facing her, I had not felt myself move, but this is how I stood. Squared, fists tight. I stared at her.
The voice that had emerged from me had not been my own. It was loud. It was furious. It was....honest. "I HATE YOU, How can you do this to us?.......". My dad's hands grasped my shoulders. Her face still facing the ceiling above never shifted. Never looking at me, her eyes closed. Her stature never changed. I got no answer. Overwhelmed by the severity of everything suddenly falling around me, I could not stand before her anymore.
My feet moved and yet my head stayed right in that room. Every word I wanted to say overwhelmed my thoughts. Had I been reciting my anger aloud? I do not know, all I can remember is hitting those same doors with the same anticipation I had entered them. Anxious to walk through them....my mind dulls and I cannot remember much else of my night......
Its funny how the mind can play tricks. I can remember the wood grain of the old hospital doors. I can remember the people, not so much faces. I can remember the blue of the walls, the hum of my fathers truck engine. I can remember that ball of jean balled into my fist walking back down that hall. But I cannot remember leaving that hospital. I cannot remember going home or the long drive to get there. Im sure my father or I had something to say. Why did those thoughts evade me now?
But yet, I can still vididly recall the throbbing of my feet the rocks had left or the shoes I wore. How can I remember the dishevled red of my hair as I stared sullenly into the mirror of the hospital bathrooms mirror? How can I remember the night shirt I still wore, wishing I had dressed warmer? Why could I not remember regretting my words? Why could I not remember wondering if she was going to pull through? WHY? Perhaps I already knew, but my body just hadnt disgested it just yet. My limbs hadnt gotten the news, just yet, that my life had just changed, forever.
My Story Preface/Intro (Pt. 1)
Okay so I have written some things in the past that I found therapuetic in doing so. I have written about some events in my life. And Im not even sure what I intend to do with them...But I decided I will put them up in my blog for now. I dont know if I want to use it as a creative tool to help other people or if it will simply stay, a blog. I had high marks in school for English and I do love to do it. I write more often than I think people may know. Also, I don't want to make anyone mad my publishing my writing, but I wanna share. I have alot of family on here, and my intentions are not to offend or upset anyone. I dont know why..nor do I know whats posessing me this morning. What I write is very personal nor is it a secret. But I want to get it out. I feel entitled to do so...so here is a introduction. Read on if you wish. The rest will go to blog as it progresses, mind you this is a rough draft.....
Anna
PREFACE
Funny how the mind flashes forward and back through memories that are clear as yesterday. When life holds no time frame. The pain and outside senses in tune, the coldness, the silence, the small sounds happening around. But the presence of time dissapates. Pushing your thoughts back and forth in a blinding and confusing recollection, that has you struggling for what is truth and what is not. You actually find yourself in a moment where you wonder if what your remembering ever happened at all. Then the truth creeps in like an unfriendly stranger, reminding you indeed, that the worse has happened.
I don't know what has jolted me out of bed this morning. Whats required me like a puppet to sit here at this keyboard and write. My fingers are flittering fast, as if attached to invisible strings, but cannot keep up with what is coming to mind. My mind has brought me here many times over the last two decades, but only one other rare occasion has it brought me here. I wrote, what ended up being a 7 page essay, I guess you can call it, about it. Not about the day my life changed, but about how the events following effected me. What started out a sad affectionate story, ended up angry. I posted that page online and had received email after email about how the story effected people. After a year I did not re-read that essay. I went back to it after a morning like this. It was gone. I had not relived that moment in a year, the web provider had discontinued the page. A morning like this, I found myself frantic. I had lost that moment. Once again what my mind had sifted as truth was once again a moment of wondering if it had ever happened at all.
As I write this...even now...I feel a sense of "am losing it?" Though I am fully aware, I am not. There are situations in life that are beyond anyones full ability to cope. I have coped. I live a full, functional, happy life. Yet mornings like this my fingers tremble. My heart pounds at the thought of it all, why so vivid now? Why does the loss of her leave me so fragile today? At a time where I am unsuspecting and unfairyly blind sided by it? I cannot make sense of it, so I write. It has helped in the past. I know not of the effect, if any, it will have later. Perhaps I won't lose this one. Panic and anxiety creep back in......even after almost 20 years later.
Anna
PREFACE
Funny how the mind flashes forward and back through memories that are clear as yesterday. When life holds no time frame. The pain and outside senses in tune, the coldness, the silence, the small sounds happening around. But the presence of time dissapates. Pushing your thoughts back and forth in a blinding and confusing recollection, that has you struggling for what is truth and what is not. You actually find yourself in a moment where you wonder if what your remembering ever happened at all. Then the truth creeps in like an unfriendly stranger, reminding you indeed, that the worse has happened.
I don't know what has jolted me out of bed this morning. Whats required me like a puppet to sit here at this keyboard and write. My fingers are flittering fast, as if attached to invisible strings, but cannot keep up with what is coming to mind. My mind has brought me here many times over the last two decades, but only one other rare occasion has it brought me here. I wrote, what ended up being a 7 page essay, I guess you can call it, about it. Not about the day my life changed, but about how the events following effected me. What started out a sad affectionate story, ended up angry. I posted that page online and had received email after email about how the story effected people. After a year I did not re-read that essay. I went back to it after a morning like this. It was gone. I had not relived that moment in a year, the web provider had discontinued the page. A morning like this, I found myself frantic. I had lost that moment. Once again what my mind had sifted as truth was once again a moment of wondering if it had ever happened at all.
As I write this...even now...I feel a sense of "am losing it?" Though I am fully aware, I am not. There are situations in life that are beyond anyones full ability to cope. I have coped. I live a full, functional, happy life. Yet mornings like this my fingers tremble. My heart pounds at the thought of it all, why so vivid now? Why does the loss of her leave me so fragile today? At a time where I am unsuspecting and unfairyly blind sided by it? I cannot make sense of it, so I write. It has helped in the past. I know not of the effect, if any, it will have later. Perhaps I won't lose this one. Panic and anxiety creep back in......even after almost 20 years later.
Monday
AnnaBananuhzBlogger
Hum, yeah. Okay so this is my new blog, let's see how screwed I can make this...
For one why can't I have AnnaBANANA as a damned name no matter how I tweak it...
Now it must be BananUH....like HUH? or DUH...... Very classless and rather...me.
Why not ANNUH BANANUH?
bleh.
Okay so I guess I won't bitch on it for now...until then...
I'ma mess around here until I decided if I "like" this site or not.....
..........................................much to do.
kudos and monkey farts :)
For one why can't I have AnnaBANANA as a damned name no matter how I tweak it...
Now it must be BananUH....like HUH? or DUH...... Very classless and rather...me.
Why not ANNUH BANANUH?
bleh.
Okay so I guess I won't bitch on it for now...until then...
I'ma mess around here until I decided if I "like" this site or not.....
..........................................much to do.
kudos and monkey farts :)
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