Wednesday, November 18, 2020

Dysfunctional Resilience


 Last night I was reading in bed and I heard a crackling sound and then again a rustle and I thought it might be Sophie but I didn't feel like getting out of bed so I kept reading (Homeland Elegies) but that was it, the guilt was creeping in and then I heard coughing a tiny cough a choke, really, so I lay the book down and got out of bed and walked down the hall the short hall and into the darkness of the room where the lady lay the princess lay gurgling. I don't know how to write anymore and remember writing these tales before when I used commas and semi-colons and short muscular verbs. Now it's all run-ons and no punctuation and stream of thought because after nine months of being at home and teaching on Zoom and doing all the usual things with Sophie like marveling at her hair and feeling her grace and changing her diapers and managing her medication and arguing with her insurance company and paying Nice Neurologist to write me scrips and listen to my suggestions for what we should do next, well, there's no other way to get it all down. I flipped on the light and Sophie's lips were dark were they blue? was she breathing? had she had a seizure? where's the pulse-ox? Let's make a long story short (the requisite shall we?). Sophie is ok so no worries all is well thank god (where is god?) and I sat up with her all night, you see, because I knew in that moment that had I not gone into her room at that exact moment she might have died. It feels good to type that out here in the public space that is this old blog for you dear Reader some of you well over a decade. I just knew in my bones that this is how it will happen but that it did not happen not happen last night. I sat up all night and then I fell asleep and woke with a start at ten til nine and Sophie was still sleeping Sleeping Beauty right next to me her lips red red rosed. I had to teach at 9:30 on the Zoom and one of the Marias was coming at 9:00 so I got up from the bower where we lay and made coffee and opened the door to one of the Marias who would be taking over for me. Where was I? My friend Noa from days gone by calls this all of this dysfunctional resilience and I call it a tale, a happily ever after, thickets of thorns and brambles and words and thankfulness to be alive, even now with no punctuation.

5 comments:

  1. Thoughts rarely come with punctuation and neither do dreams. These times are filled with thoughts and with dreams. For me at least. You have written a beautiful and heart-true prose poem here, Elizabeth and I will carry the image of Sophie's princess hair and rosy lips with me all day.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Favorite lines: "crackling sound and then again a rustle," "the lady lay the princess lay gurgling," "short muscular verbs." I had forgotten about Nice Neurologist, and how you "pay him to write me scrips and listen to my suggestions for what we should do next" (what a full time mum you are) "Sophie is ok so no worries all is well thank god (where is god?)" "I just knew in my bones that this is how it will happen" "her lips red red rosed" The bones of this piece are fleshed, thickets and thorns and roses. Beautiful writing. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  3. "I call it a tale, a happily ever after, thickets of thorns and brambles and words and thankfulness to be alive, even now with no punctuation." Love it. Sending you a huge hug, Elizabeth.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I held my breath. The dailiness of it. Dysfunctional resilience. It is an awesome thing to witness. I am glad you and Sophie both are ok. Also you still write like a goddess of the word. Punctuation or no.

    ReplyDelete
  5. 'dysfunctional resilience'. Whew... and yes.

    ReplyDelete

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...