Friday, October 29, 2010

And All These Things....



I stood and waited for the bus again yesterday, but it was in the throes of wet, windy, and cold weather. So, along with a few other passengers, I found some comfort in a bus shelter. A man and woman talked. The woman kept saying, “I’m married. I’m married. You’re about ten years too late. And I don’t plan on getting divorced any time soon.” Then I looked up and saw that a woman named Suzanne had, in permanent marker, declared her eternal love for a man named Kevin on the shelter wall. Permanent marker declaring permanent love…

And in the middle of all these signs of faithful love I found myself struggling with trust issues in my own relationship. I’ve been let down so many times. I don’t know if I’ll ever easily trust a man to be faithful ever again. I know it’s sad. It’s more than sad. But I’ve been cheated on or lied to more than once and even in the happiest relationship I would struggle. It’s like I’m broken. But I can’t help it. And yesterday I realized that I have to just force myself to trust my boyfriend. It feels like running against a brutal wind when you’re exhausted. He’s attractive and could cheat with many, many women. The other night he got an innocent phone call from an old fling potentially willing to be a fling again. I was there. It was a purse dial but I was unbelievably suspicious. We started fighting. I made him text her and tell her he had a girlfriend now who couldn’t figure out why he was getting late night calls from old flings. It was innocent. Yesterday morning I realized I have to let myself potentially be devastated by him. I love him. He could hurt me in innumerable ways. But it’s like I wrote a while back, I have to let myself be hurt. I have to be a standing target. Push myself on and yet stand still. Because when I hide from potential pain love can’t find me either. If I do get hurt it will suck, but at least I’ll know that I’ve given it my all.

Later, in the mall, I was going about my business when I was swallowed into a sales vortex. A kiosk selling ceramic hair straightners had a particularly convincing salesperson. She curled my hair, gave me a discount and all but sold me on her product despite countless protests otherwise. She was fabulous and I actually did look better when I left. I guess her product sold itself, although she showcased it well. I realized, in any case, a little more about my personal style in the process. I love traditional classics, like the long khaki trench coat I wore because of the rain. And I love long big curls. I love heals when they don’t kill your feet… I love long, clean lines. And I think I always have… I remember a while back I mentioned my admiration for Kate Winslet’s fashion sensibilities.

On the bus the newspaper I read was filled with inspiration too, albeit tragic inspiration. There was a piece about the late Senator Paul Wellstone and another article about the man and his sons whose plane disappeared days ago. The late Senator had such hope and goodness. He was indeed a mensch as one admirer was quoted as saying. The world feels cold without people like him and his wife. I believe God reflects his love through such people. I’ve been watching many campaign advertisements lately. One of them includes endorsements by a gubernatorial candidate’s two sons. They mostly praise their father’s influence on their lives and his character. It’s sad but I wonder if they are lying and somewhere in my deepest of hearts I hope that they are not.

Then there is the man and his sons in the missing plane. The sons are so young and happy looking. I can’t remember the last time I looked as happy as them, or if I ever have. I don’t say that to pity myself. I just see such peace and love in that family that it makes the tragedy uniquely gripping. It’s not every day one sees seemingly good, ambitious, truly happy looking people. Then that people could have that much and lose it is a sobering and telling lesson about the nature of life. It is like a ship sailing on a wild sea. It passes between a changeful sky and an unruly sea of unspeakable depths. One moment you are floating on in sunshine and then the storms come and you can be beaten, cold and tired, or thrown to your death. Their strength and their lives sound like beautiful symphonies of what can be though… Even if death can take such bright life away from this world their seemingly positive lives did exist… and maybe even still do.

Last night I had a talk with my boyfriend. I realized how depressed I was about being a nurse and that I was doing it for the wrong reasons. After truly listening to me talk about my life and my fallen dreams he said, “Don’t do it!” I said, “But I don’t have a choice!” That’s not true though. I’m still alive. And somehow I can make it work. I’ve decided to pursue one of my passions and become a history professor. My writing will improve. And I’ll be able to delve into a place I find such beauty in. I’ll be able to think as long and as much as I want. And no one will get angry if I ask millions of little questions and ponder the answers for hours and hours…

2 comments:

Rita Teles said...

You should be a writer. My grandmother died today and I always find such confort in your words, that's why i've came here today.
well, you shouldn't be a writer.
You are a writer,you write, that's what you do.

Thank you for sharing.

Nixi. said...

I love reading your posts... keep them coming :) xxx