PART 33

Some days I feel as though I am being lead around by an invisible thread. It was fed through my nostrils and then criss crossed between each of my eye sockets. So, it has me now and nothing can be done about it. I’m under its control and no amount of biting or swatting in its direction is going to help. I sit and wait until I feel it tug at my skull. It feels like a sinus head ache. Mucus and pressure. It’s time to move on. Maybe where I was felt comforting or appropriate, but it doesn’t matter. I’m forced to stand and follow the unknown source through the mundane and the unmentionables.

Traffic from a funeral procession. Sleepless nights from aching bones. Fearful doctor visits. Relational disputes in a late night parking lot. The realization that those who I love are older every minute I see them and that and I am not as young as I once was. Every second is the pull of the thread and I suddenly realize that it’s leading me, kicking and screaming, to an unseen cliff at the end of the dessert of my life. And there are times when I pretend that I except the quickness and vitality of the path I am being lead down. And there are times that I do not.

And then I see others being lead by their own thread and I think, “Maybe we could tangle all our threads together and that would slow this whole thing down. Might give us a change to rest and forget about that cliff for a bit longer.” And then I do. I tangle mine with theirs. And it actually does slow the whole thing down a bit. We dig in and find a communal weight to brace ourselves within. And we stay warm and dry. And there’s some peace for a bit. And maybe that’s what love is.