the
beneficiary of disappointments
from
smelling the snow (3)
Yesterday, when Baubo first
showed up in the kitchen, Mrs. Scattergood hardly knew how to behave. How do
you accept someone like Baubo into your world anyway? There’s no instruction book and as it stands
now, nobody, including Barry would have accused Mrs. Scattergood of ever being
patient enough to read instructions first. Baubo knew this about her too. She put her hand on Mrs. Scattergood’s
shoulder and said, “You didn’t need this. But it’s going to be all right.” Mrs.
Scattergood looked around at her as if she were nuts. Barry was gone and she
didn’t know how she’d find gravity again.
Baubo said, “I promise you, I will never say ‘trust that this happened
for a good reason.’ ‘That was surely a good thing,’ Mrs. Scattergood thought.
Cause otherwise, goddess, phantom nomad or whatever, she would have kicked her
butt.
~
We have all been the beneficiary of
disappointments. Regretting that words spoken aren’t healing or balm after
rushing to be with someone that you thought could ease your pain. The
disappointment is the same painful reality is with you. Grief is an odd animal
really. It is there and squarely in place. A guardian against you ever feeling
connected. Nobody will tell you that it
will always be there. But nobody can tell you when it will leave.
~
If we could peek into Mrs. Scattergood’s
journal we might see something like this: “I used to long for summer the way I
longed for a lover. My life was so much simpler then. Lost as I was. Not having any idea what the
world was or how to navigate through it. Just as you’d imagine, no map, the
territory unexplained by friends and family.
Fifty years later, I’m okay. We all survive if we survive. But I could
not tell you where I’ve been. No map, ya
see. Barry was my ear for all that
others couldn’t hear. This leaves me
alone with all my secrets. That is startlingly lonely. I never thought I’d be
so lonely cause I enjoy the quiet, you know. But the birds chirping goodnight,
the fog horn going off in the distance are just reminders that time keeps
passing. Another day is going to emerge
out of all of this. Just you watch. I’m almost certain. And Barry won’t be
here. I’ll just go on though. I know. I
know the drill too. You move through the day. Sometimes, you just move through
the day or like those photons from outer space, the day moves through you. What
are we all? Ghosts in the making? Hollow. So easy to penetrate. So long my
friend. You made that trip you know I always feared.”
~
“Here I am now, wondering, do I start with
the life plans? What cycle would I
choose? I’m thinking just like Barry; a year seems too long. Too many things
can change. I’m too old and too impatient for a year-long review. But a half-year life review? Let’s see then.
Six months from now I’d like to be free of pain. But right now I know that I
cannot let go of this sadness. What a grip. Barry, what a grip you have man.
You know Bar, I’d tell anyone who would listen that you were my CB radio. Don’t ask me what the hell that means cause I
really don’t know. I think lost as I was amidst the daffodils and life
structures that those with children had, those people with exes and new wives
and grandchildren, you know, that everyday kind of belonging that people have
that have their families in tact or in pieces, lost as I was I wasn’t so
without you. This culture has been a wiz at accepting those families in any way
shape or form they come in. But somehow Bar, I still manage to feel as if I
don’t belong to those circles within circles. Just like the beer company or the
Olympic rings. Somehow I’m spinning through a different life cycle and you know
what I just realized, six months is way too long to leave myself open for a
review that might reveal I was on the wrong damn path again.”
~
“I couldn’t handle it. I think the thing
is, if you think about it like this, even my old car, if it’s worth it to get
an oil change every 3,000 miles or every three months, then man, I’m going to
do a life review at least that often. I won’t ask what to do with the old
oil. Piss it down the toilet. Shit. Okay, so here I am ready to roll on a three-month
review. But just now, well, I realized I can’t look back on these past three
months Bar. I’m going to wait another
three and then I’ll look back. I could see doing that. Maybe you’ll get it, well, maybe I’ll get it
that I’ll have to start talking to someone. You’re not alone if someone knows
your struggles or your passions, no matter how foolish, no matter how many
regrets. You’re not alone if someone knows your dreams too. That’s the kind of
coupling I can dig almost all the time. Partnering that way. You bastard. You were supposed to be my back up.”
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