[14] Umbrellas

When you see people in the rain, most often the point is not to ridicule them, ask them why they are in the rain, or to tell them about when you were in the rain once; it’s to give them an umbrella and ask them to come inside.

[12] Quietly talking about barley.

What you don’t know is I spent the night in the ER. What was supposed to be a normal Thursday night, turned into me I walking through the double doors at 2:30am on Friday into a hallway drowning in beige.”Is this the ER?” “Yes, can I help you?” Weak, exposed. The hospital was strangely empty. I checked myself in, and after answering the question “Are you alone, Deanna?” with a yes, I was shown to one of the many shower curtain enclosed rooms. The hospital gown was a knot of fabric and ties and snaps. The bed was softer and warmer than I expected, but the room itself was colder. Everything within sight was a sterile beige and white. Everything except the tv hung in the corner; Alton Brown was quietly talking about barley. Weak, exposed. I walked down the hallway holding the side of my gown shut with the awkwardly fitting blue footies. I remember seeing you watching me from down the hall, and I would normally be so confident here. I would look you straight in the eye, I would walk with my head up and with ease. But now I feel Weak, exposed, and inhuman. I feel small and naked.

[11] Every Bright and Momentary White String

Once I raced a thunderstorm, but last night I drove into one. With every bright and momentary white string that ran straight to the sky, my lungs felt like a tree that emptied every branch. Because these days–shall I call you brother and sister?–I feel like an ocean tide, waking and sleeping, driving and falling. In my ever maddening mind I am only defined by my screaming opposite, which I told you today makes me a shadow because I only exist when the sun falls on me once and a while. We sat together in a church pew a few states away and all I could let out of my mouth was “Why couldn’t it have worked this way?” and you didn’t hear me say “I need you right this very second.” You want to know me so desperately and yet you only saw my utter weakness inside when the telephone poles and wires were snapping under the wind and I woke up infected with sleep. I’ve been gone every Sunday and I’m afraid to come home because you never saw me in pain and I’m just waiting for your love to run out. I am the three week old shadow and you’re just dying for the sun to go away. (How could you stand next to your brother and leave your daughter in pain?)