Evolution, Anyone?

It is an absolute truth that in any and every situation regarding any and every topic, you can answer your own questions by asking yourself how you would feel if it were you. Let us review examples:

You loaned your friend $40, they swore they would pay you on Friday and suddenly they avoid you like a communicable disease. That sucked for you. If you say you will pay someone, pay up – or communicate.

Are you comfortable with being murdered because your murderer gave you a cushy bed and said nice things to you first? No. The cow is not OK with it because he was “free-range.” Similarly, you would not consider your own murder humane, no matter how hard someone tried to convince you.

Do you like being patted on the head? Your dog doesn’t, either.

Did you like it when your friend told your secrets and you had to do damage control? Yeah, she would probably expect you to honor that “between us” conversation, too.

…elementary, really. It is an age-old adage whereby you “put yourself in another’s shoes.” You think about how you would feel and, like magic, the answers are as clear as glass. Holy Concept, Batman!

Feel free to consider and post your very own examples below.

Substratum

I passed you in the hallway and I heard your heavy sigh
It echoed in my soul, and so I stopped – to ease your mind
I told you how I loved you… “Everything will be okay”
Well, I guess that’s how I wish it went today

I woke to hear the tremor in the early waking hours
It frightened me, but this time I did more than hide and cower
I rushed you with a hug and held on ’til you hugged me back
I wish that I could say that that’s what happened

I told you funny stories and you laughed until you cried
We took a walk and played some catch, we even rode our bikes
You told me of your future plans and thanked me for advice
At least, that’s what I played… inside my mind.

I don’t know where you’re going, and I don’t know where you’ve been
I don’t know who you think you are, I don’t know what you’ve seen
I don’t know how to reach you and I don’t know what to do
But I love you …hope someday you’ll love me, too.

Letters to Tristan: The Day We Met

It was a sunshine-y Friday on the day you and I were “formally introduced”. It was warm and dry, which is pretty much the standard in Las Vegas. I was in panic mode. I went to the bathroom and discovered blood… lots of blood. “This can’t be normal for someone who is pregnant”, I thought. “I am having a miscarriage. I know it. How can I be having a miscarriage so late in my pregnancy? I couldn’t bear to lose you again. I have to… I have… Ok… I have to get it together. Deeeeee!”.

My good friend and long-time roommate, Dee, did a .05-second change in the Superman-Phone-Booth and had me seat-belted into the car by minute two. She was well prepared for this day, and I was glad she was, because I was not. She drove as fast as her little blue Honda would let her go, and I was nervously impressed with her car-chase-scene-worthy approach to the Emergency Room entrance doors. I waddled up to the check-in counter; face full of tears, and tried to offer an explanation. Dee came in moments later and wasted no time in taking control of the scene. She put her hand around my shoulder and gave me a little squeeze. “I’ll take care of this, honey. You sit down and try to relax”. I was thankful to have a friend like Dee. She had a wonderful way of “mothering” you without being annoying.

I scanned the room for an open seat, but they were few. I settled on a nice, cozy corner – great for hiding. I wanted to hide. I must have looked a mess. I couldn’t help but wonder what sorts of strangeness must be bouncing around in the heads of the moms and dads who have been waiting for hours to have their sniffling children evaluated. I even worried what Charlie would be thinking if here were here. Charlie was a regular at another hospital in town. He was homeless. He smelled horribly. You could never understand what he was saying when he spoke to you because his sentences sounded like one long word sprinkled with strange, guttural noises. That was Charlie, and I wondered what HE would think of ME. I know, I know… but that’s what I do. I take some getting used to.

I felt as if I was wearing a spotlight as I excused my way through knees, over-sized purses and children. Normally, I would feel downright silly being wheeled around like a helpless lump, but today I was relieved to see the nurse headed toward me, wheelchair-in-hand. She helped me into the chair with more delicacy than I felt necessary, and we were on our way. She told me not to worry. She said we would get this all worked out, together. I believed her, and it made me feel better. Before long, I was in a nice firm bed in a nice chilly room, chewing my nails as I made mental rhythms from the surrounding medley of coughing and crying and cart-rolling. At this point, it was hard to choose which was more important; chewing my fingers or using them to hold closed the crispy paper exposing my behind. I tried to manage both at once. The nurse arrived and asked me to lay back and put my feet in the dreaded stirrups. I made a solid attempt to hold back the rapids, slowly overtaking the space where my eyes were supposed to live, as my mind drifted off into the land of worst-case scenarios. But as quickly as I left Earth, I was startled back to it with a stern “Helllloooooooo, Honey!”, (condescending sigh), “You’re dilated to five centimeters. You’re having a baby.”.

“A baby. I’m having a baby. Ohmygosh! I’M HAVING A BABY!”

The next few hours were a bit of a blur. I remember the epidural hitting a nerve that felt like it made my leg jolt. I remember the rigidity of the pain and the “peer pressure” from the nurses commanding me to “Push!”, “Breathe!”, “Sit up!”, “Sit down!” and “Grab this bar and squat!”. (It reminded me of the time I attended that Catholic Church session, with all of the orders being tossed about.) I remember being scolded by the doctor because my jelly legs wouldn’t stay in position. This would be due to that little epidural mishap from earlier that apparently affected my legs, and not my belly – which was really angry with me right now. I remember threatening the aforementioned Doctor with; “If you don’t get that medicine man back in here, I’m not pushing anymore!”; to which she replied; “OK, don’t.” – and she walked out the door. I didn’t see her again that day, but I didn’t care. I saw him.

He is Tristan. Tristan; one of thirty-eight Knights of the Round Table who was not only a great fighter, but a skilled musician who possessed a beautiful singing voice. My Tristan was a Knight. He rescued me from the self-serving, emotionless, irresponsible me I was up until the very moment of him. And look at him! Has there ever been something so beautiful? I made him. I did this. I’m not even sure I deserve him, but here he is – getting ready to celebrate his tenth birth-minute. Already, we have been through quite a lot together – a death scare, a planned adoption and an unfortunate disappearing-dad trick. But the Maker had his own plans for us and now…

Now here you are – in my arms, beneath my tears… and as close to my beating heart as I can possibly nestle you. I find it difficult not to touch you, to smother you. I’ve never had anything like you before. You are more beautiful than all of the flowers, sunsets, puppies and glasses of fresh iced-tea in the world. You are perfect. How did I get so lucky?

Days of Night

Days on days, it’s getting harder
Spinning into something darker
Fight to segregate events at hand

Not sure when – or even IF
Sorting insults from the gifts
With so much love, I beg to understand

The paths of sun, the paths of night
Where left leads left and right leads right
So simply – so completely – crystal clear

And yet the sun knows nothing of her
Brilliance caged beneath its’ cover
THIS… the harbinger of crippling fear

Have we met? Do I know you?
So many years, yet I’ve no clue
Translation: I have failed to be your guide

The surface serves the psychopath
While hordes absorb the aftermath
No penance for the proud… and terrified

Right here.

It took me a while this morning
…took just a little while longer
to talk myself into “being”
But I did it.
I did it for you.

It took just a tiny bit longer
To put myself on today
I swear I must look like an orphan
But I’m here, I guess.
Here, anyway.

It takes just a little bit longer
Sometimes… it takes longer to breathe
But look at me now
I wear me so well
And without me, now- where would I be?

This camel is starting to crack
From the weight you pile up on his back
But look at me now – I can take it.
I can do it.
I do it for you.

I counted a little while longer.
Another day, a brand new 24…
But your ghost passed me by
Once again, one more time
And I hid it.
I hid it for you.

Good morning.
Good day.
Good night.

One day soon… you will say something nice.