The Shape A Day Takes
Written by Kelly on February 24th, 2010Someone asked me, on Fromspring, What makes you feel? It is a curious question. Here are some accumulated moments that shape my days.
I sit in my car in the supermarket and watch an elderly couple loading groceries into their Chevrolet. The man opens the door. The woman pulls back her hair. He lifts a bag. She reaches out her hand to grab the eggs and the jam. They move like choreography. She walks the cart back up to the front of the store. He fishes in his pocket for the keys. Ordinary things are so beautiful.
***
My son slams a tool into my face. My head is an explosion of pain. My brain rains stars. There is blood all over my face. In the distance, I hear a sound that is not human. A primordial howl. This sound is coming from my child’s mouth. Did you know that terror makes an echo? I stare into the mirror and watch my bruises bloom. Pain flowers.
***
I drive to work. I am black and blue. I happen upon wreckage. The body of cars are twisted like Edvard Munch’s Scream. There is the smell of burnt rubber. Flashing lights. The cars in front of me slow down. We are moving like a funeral procession. At the collision site, there is a direct impact between what I imagine and what exists on the slick street. I crane my neck to see across the highway divider. I face death on a rainy Tuesday morning. I drive away.
***
Sex is the only power we really have. A friend writes this in an e-mail. It feels like deep breathing. I remember sitting in a therapist’s office, talking about the shame surrounding one-night stands. My therapist listens and says, Do you ever think you are using these men just as much as they are using you? I was afraid to let go of victim-hood long enough to really hear her. 15 years later, I listen to my friend. She reminds me of forgiveness.
***
What makes me feel? I think I answered the Formspring question by saying, Everything. I wish I had written a quote from Perks of Being A Wallflower, instead. I think it answers the question perfectly.
So, this is my life. I am both happy and sad. Really, I am just trying to figure out how those things can exist simultaneously.
-Charlie
***
If you are reading this post in a reader, you need to click on through. I have a new header. It is a picture of street graffiti that was taken by my dear friend Tara. If my words don’t make you feel, this photo certainly will.
24
PM
It doesn’t bother me in the least to admit that I loved every last one-night stand.
Well, except the one. He got to the door before I did. I felt distinctly cheated.
24
PM
I think that is how I’ve been lately… happy and sad. It can be so confusing sometimes.
(The header looks great! Thanks again!)
24
PM
Oh, your words make me feel. Absolutely.
The new header photo is stunning, but I’ll be back for the words.
25
AM
Thank you for alerting us to the new header, Kelly. It was worth clicking through to see: perfect topper for Ordinary Art. Now I’ll see it even from within the reader.
You must know, I never fail to read your posts even though for one reason or another they generally scare the bejeezus out of me. This is actually a good fear, a positive one tinged with admiration, but it probably explains why the reading occurs mostly in the safe, remote confines of a Google Reader window.
25
PM
My one night stands were never really one night stands. They were nights spent carving my heart into the smallest, most ugly form it could be and then washing down the pain with vodka.
I don’t think I was doing it right.
Everything makes me feel and then I feel too much and then I feel nothing.
26
AM
The one that was supposed to be a one night stand some how snagged a piece of me, and years later I’m still trying to get that piece back. I feel shame for that.
- – - – -
There is a special three year old, that can say “yeash” and take hold of my fingers in a way that swallows my heart and makes me want nothing more than to be the person that she always goes running to.
- – - – -
There are thoughts that stream thru my mind as a reaction to things/events/people that make me very aware that I am alone.
I feel like the one person that could see thru me is gone, and when he died, so did the real me.
I am so many pieces, that I may never be whole.
2
AM
Happy and sad–yes I understand that I am both of those.