Tuesday, January 29, 2008
The Thing You Gave Away
(Puzzle piece number 6 of 38.)
Have you ever given something away then discovered you really needed it? But you made a commitment, the thing was gone, and it was too late to reclaim it. Kind of like passing a fluffer in public, then wishing it weren’t such a smelly one.
So you walk around glumly for a while, regretting your generosity, kicking yourself with the foot you’ve grown out of your backside, wondering if the recipient would kindly return it to you saying, “Gee, I really don’t think I’ll use this as much as you would, so thanks, but you can have it back.”
But when that winning lottery ticket doesn’t materialize, you gently ease the foot out of your rear and move on, living with the memory of The Thing You Gave Away.
Well, I gave my heart away. I know it sounds a little strange, because here I am, but not entirely.
There are nights when I know my heart’s recipient is stomping all over it, laughing without a care as it bleeds all over the room, thumping to escape its cruel captor.
One night the nebula inside my chest billowed as if something were ready to barge out. It felt like an impatient, hungry beast was lunging for its long-awaited meal. Honestly, I thought I was a goner.
But I lived. The beast apparently got its meal, the billowing subsided, and I winched myself out of bed the next morning.
Perhaps, just as cells replace themselves and some organs regenerate, pieces of the nebula in my chest are attracting more positive energy. Soon the dust and gas particles will congregate, reconstitute, and sing Steppenwolf’s “Born to Be Wild.”
These transformations don’t usually happen when I’m alone at nighttime, though. They emerge when I get out of my house and hike, and laugh with friends, and think of crazy, embarrassing things I’ve done (like accidentally, publicly…), and when I contemplate naughty things I could do to retaliate for the brusque treatment given my heart.
Yes, pretty soon I should be back to a better normal, new heart completely intact, ready to take on the next challenge. Till then, though, I’ll keep my foot on the ground, gas in my SUV, and scarred, or is it scared, heart securely guarded by my pawns.
copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.
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