6 November 2003 (Thursday)

if i never loved i never would have cried

Most days it seems like my heart is made of plastic: a sturdy material, manufactured, the child of chemicals poured out of vast industrial silos. It is useful. It molds neatly against beauty and stores its shape; it bears minor scuffs with the steadfast cheeriness of logic. The cabinet handle, the casing of the answering machine, and my heart -- all everyday objects, all taken for granted. A warranty card came with it but we've misplaced the box, not that we'll ever need it again. Maybe it's in the attic.

But sometimes...sometimes the plastic turns into something different. A dandelion. A nectarine. And the blue sky not BLUE.SKY but my god how the wind is blowing across this endlessness that frames our little world, can you feel that, and suddenly I am proud of tall buildings and community gardens and suddenly I am amazed to be of the same species as the beautiful woman taking my endorsed checks at the bank saying will there be anything else for you today and suddenly I am so very, very scared of losing Soren, to accident or aging or anything else. Right then my heart is not plastic but something porous, fragile, alive and therefore capable of dying. As I walk I feel as though I'm cupping it in my hands, not sure if I'm protecting it or offering it. Times like these I learn the most.

posted by enjelani @ 10:00 PM PST [ link ]