Sunset at Kure Beach, NC, 2011.
She lay in the coffin, so young, looking like an inflatable punching bag. My eyes drifted up the rack of t-shirts she'd tie-dyed, back to her wearing one, over to photos of a happy girl. Nearby, her parents cried, hugged friends and strangers. They hugged me, an emissary from better times.
"She's in a better place now." If a grave is better than life. I won't mouth such words of comfort. I don't believe in a god who is going to fix you, or punish you, or reward you for kissing his ass.
At the Christian school where I teach, I've been known to tell a student, "I want to shove my foot so far up your ass you'll smell my toe jam." Words of love, really. Yes, really.
When I connect, I can say nearly anything. But I never connected to her. She was untethered, even then, drifting away into her tie-dyed sky.
* * *
Day one: Mix the chemicals, run the analysis, and record the results. Repeat. Day two: Keep pushing the rock up the hill for eternity—it's punishment for something, wasn't it? The required sterile-white lab coat doesn't suit me. I like tie-dyed better. Dad will pay the bills until I find something else. |
Still nothing—nothing like my college project with the research adviser I loved,analyzing pervious pavement—rain soaking in, not running off. In front of a crowd after months of work, I presented my results—me, the local expert, as my adviser looked on proudly. I was focused.
A new job and a new boss—he told a co-worker I'm lazy. I'm not. Unmotivated? Yeah. I can't find a focus—I'm just drifting. Doesn't he know the difference? Some manager!
I've got a new boyfriend, but he's no new adviser. He helps me drift, helps me inject the clouds into my tie-dyed sky.
This is strong, Dale. Particularly the first section. That's where the real heat is for me! Great to see you writing!! LKA
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