Monday, November 7, 2011

She'll leave before we are ready.

Sometimes I think it must be a profoundly sad thing to be a human being.

Kurt told me about something he learned about life once, I think from watching the Sopranos. He said that humanity is all one big storm, all together we're roiling clouds and flashes of light. To understand what it means to be a person, you should picture millions of little tornadoes reaching down to touch the earth.

That's why we're always holding our babies close. That's why we hug our lovers, probe for ways to get inside of them and let them inside of ourselves. Somewhere in the sky, we know each other. When we're born, we're a tiny tornado and when we die, we turn back into the storm.

I was tired last night. I forgot to refill my pills. Kurt wanted to watch football, but I asked him to stay in bed for a little while.

We don't go away. We don't go away lonely. We are so lonely while we live that we press our darlings against us, breath them and need their warmth.

I wasn't sleeping last night, not really. I didn't want to be bothered, either. I curled against my husband. There has always been a place on his collarbone where my face fits. I wanted him to be still so that I could clumsily fit myself into all of his spaces. I half-slept and dreamed that we were twenty years old, again. I remembered what it felt like to be young and to not be alone, not touching the cold earth anymore, suddenly. I remembered when I recognized him as the thing that would keep me warm, that would help me to be alive. I let myself remember that.

When people want to die, it isn't because life doesn't have meaning. People want to die when nobody wants to be inside of them. Sometimes people are actually lonely. Sometimes they're filthy; sometimes they do bad things that nobody else should touch. Sometimes they only feel that way.

I think about how we build these little homes. We live in them and leave them at some point. When we do, some other little humans will move their lives in and settle down in the dark together in the space where we slept. Dear, lonely little animals clinging to one another because it's all we can do.

That's why we need our mommies. That's why we need to let her go. She'll leave before we are ready. That is why people forgive their fathers when they shouldn't.

I was lonely as a girl. Some of that loneliness became me, so that I'll be in a small space with all my love piled around me and I feel like a ghost. Sometimes I feel that being alive is a deliriously wonderful thing. We'll all be back together someday.