"Oh, Big A.
What you did to my heart, that moment first I saw you.
I could feel the heart within me rip and twist in ways I'd never known, in just that first second that I peered upon you.
was a light, so bright, so clear and so true in that moment; it was
piercing in its clarity, blinding in its rapture. Everything I had
learned up to that moment, unlearned. Everything I thought that I had
held dear, lying neglected upon the floor of my life as I worshiped at
couldn't sleep, because I had to keep gazing upon you, making promises
to you. I remember them, my little girl, and I will keep them. I just
hadn't intended on them being so long in the making.
night, so long and snowy ago. That night, only yesterday, wasn't it,
sweet child? Wasn't it then, my little thing, that you first laid
within the confines of my arms? Wasn't it only a minute ago that I
first caressed your cheeks?
I blinked, and then Ten."
15 April 2016
Thing One stands about 5'9 and looms large on my horizon.
It has long legs, strong arms, a beautiful mind.
And It has wings.
Over the course of the last year, I've often found myself thinking about my sister and Her Thing.
I recall vividly her front porch and how she and I, illuminated by the moonlight, sat talking very late into the night one warm summer evening.
So very late, in fact, that before we thought to be aware, the night had suddenly disappeared and transformed into The Morning That She Had To Release Him.
From those memories an ache deep within me rises so quickly and so violently that I cannot bear to reflect on the morning that is advancing so rapidly toward me: The Morning When I Have To Release My Thing.
Sometimes I can hear The Thing.
There are moments when the sound of her wings fluttering against the sides of her cage become so emphatic, so loud, that I close my eyes tightly as I did when I was a child and I tell myself, "It's all okay, it's all okay. There's nothing there. Put those thoughts away. Push them back down. It's not real. It's not real. It's okay."
I can make myself believe that indeed, it's all in my head.
It's all in my head.
I'll inhale a deep breath and slowly open my eyes.
And then I hear the flutter of her wings again and I know The Thing is real.
And I know The Thing is stirring.
And It isn't in my head.
Far, far worse: It is within my heart.