Headphone Playing right now: Laureen Hill’s EX-Factor, Can’t take my eyes off you,…!!!!The Shizzle!!!!
Then I go off on a tangent….
TN: How old are you?
Dr I: Close to thirty.
TN (Nods): I’m fifty two, meaning I have surpassed your years of living by some thirty two. How much of life do you really think you can tutor me on?
Dr I (smiles): I have dedicated those seeming small years of mine to learning all there is to know about life. I’m certain I could let you in on a few- if you would let me in.
TN (Shifts slowly): Young ones. Were you around at the times of the war?
Dr: No. Was that a traumatic time for you?
TN: I was ten years old then. A ten year old huddled with his father, mother and two year old sister under a wooden table as bombs rained from the skies down onto our ramshackle villages. What were the odds that our then mud hut never got hit once?
Dr I: Some might say fate had other plans in store for you; you were not destined to die then. My job is to keep you alive another few years.
TN: The odds, If you’re unable to do the math, I will help you. Bombs dropped by the hour, say two every hour. They were strategic. You can model a poison distribution there and calculate the probability that an insignificant family would not be disintegrated in one day.
Dr I: I get your point.
TN: No you don’t. Life is like that sometimes, most times. The issues and the paining anxieties don’t let up. You’re done with one and just as soon, something else goes wrong. Makes you wonder if the ancient Greek pantheons aren’t still running things up there, having a field day testing just how much a man can take. How much can you take?
Dr I: I-
TN (Cuts her off): You loose your job, then somehow you survive- make it through, but before you’re done heaving a sigh of relief, you loose your child- the irony of what we’d give to take back what we lost. In the midst of your mourning, you sprain a bad knee, then you get a fat insurance reprieve, then something else goes wrong again. Missile after bomb after Missile, they were bent on wiping us out. It’s how they say, we wondered if God hadn’t tire of us.
Dr I: I understand.
TN: No you don’t. You don’t try to understand when life seeks to pull you apart and tear you down. You just hold on to your portion of that wooden table leg, dead quiet. Hoping that your muffled whimper would not attract the next air strike. How many tears have you cried in your days?
Dr I: We have all had our share of pain.
TN: Some more than the others. What if your next medical check up diagnosed you with cancer? Would your preppy skirts and cushy diagnosis still make any sense to you?
TN: Under that table…with my heart skipping a beat at the sound of every bomb that exploded, wondering if my friend Adjan’s hut hadn’t just been taken apart…the only consolation was within this.
He shows her his open palm.
TN: Circled in his, my father held my hands tight. Every now and then he would look my way, not say anything. He didn’t have to say a word, just be near, waiting under that table with me….waiting for life to either end or…
He stubbornly wipes a tear.
TN:Don’t diagnose me; don’t try to explain what I am going through. Don’t tell me you understand, don’t quote religious doctrines or another hopeful theme…If you are not God enough to turn the tyranny of my life’s tides, then just be there with me…wait with me…till this one bout of air strike is over. And if I cry, don’t be alarmed, tomorrow I promise I will be strong again….yes tomorrow.
She’s quiet, then drops her books and moves in close to reach out for his now frailing hands.
Hope is…waiting for the Sun to shine again..someday…someday soon…Hope is.
9/7/10 n counting.