Running Against the Wind

I didn't cry at the hospital on Saturday. Mom cried. Shawn fidgeted. Dad remained cool, as always. He's the coolest person I've ever known. Not hip. Calm and collected. That's Dad in a nutshell.

"I've become numb. It's become almost part of the routine," I told Mom as she sat next to me bawling.
"I wish the good Lord would just take me!" she cried. She's tired of the drama. Her mother said the same thing when family drama erupted. She's tired of the visits to the hospital, the fighting, the screaming. I hugged her and told her that if life were so good here, Heaven wouldn't seem like much. That's why we hurt and routinely visited the emergency room over a loved one.

I got my face burnt today, again. I was reaching from the back side of an iron board while Minnie hung a shirt on the line. She turned and pushed the iron back to its resting place and as she did, the hanging uninsulated cord ran into my face.
"Sh*t!!" I exclaimed.
And Minnie just looked at me with that blank stare she always looks at me with. Whether I'm telling her that a piece is on special for 9am, or telling her a joke, she usually just stares at me blankly. She's not mute, I just think she doesn't like me very much.

I am quite sure it was an accident, however a little, "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't see you there! Are you OK?" would've been nice. Minnie didn't say anything to me all day.

In real life--or with a better camera--you can make out the zigzag pattern of the fabric wrapping of the cord. Almost looks like a hot zipper touched my cheek. There, on my forehead in the middle, is where I burned myself last Thursday.

I'll admit it hurt. Instead of crying, I walked around like a dragon all day. Shawn's not home yet. I know I'm gonna catch hell when he sees this. "I wish you;d find something else!" he'll say. Like what? I want a Monday thru Friday job. This works for now.

Of course this happened at 7:30 am. About 2 hours later Allan noticed and asked what happened. "Tuesday happened," I replied.
"Today?" he asked.
"Yep. Yesterday, Monday happened....Tomorrow Wednesday will happen...."

He got the joke. He wasn't amused. Maybe had I used a less smart aleck tone, he'd be more amused.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Nothing; it's no big deal..." I muttered. Allan walked away, seeing that I was no mood for chatting--even about this. I had cooled off a little but I was still angry for the way the day started.

So I pressed like a maniac. I pressed laundry, dry cleaning, and moved like I was on crack. Actually, it was four and half cups of coffee, two sodas, and too much nicotine. I had a massive headache by the afternoon.
I just wanted to leave. And now that I was helping to get things done, I had two groups watching me buzz about in my anger.
The first group, is also wanting to clock out as soon as possible because life is short and the days at work are long and tiring.
The second group is hoping to milk the clock and ruin it for the rest of us, silently cursing me under their breath because I am able to help out like this for the first time in two months.

Lucky I was able to get so much done yesterday.

Of course, there was that one who dragged it out to no end. Guess who? Minnie. Minnie can make pressing four cotton blouses last 45 minuets, somehow. Just go stand in a corner, I'll finish it up myself. Ride out the clock till the rest of us are done!

Increasingly more angry about this, I strut around, till I can cut off the boiler. I still have groceries to get.

Once at the grocery store, I got more stares than normal. One guy walked past the aisle I was in, came back, and stared at me for a second. I glared at him and said, "WHAT?!" He made the decision to move along to the meat aisle. Wise decision.

If it had been a permanent birth mark on my cheek, I might've said more to the guy.

On the way home, I decided, this was my punishment for being so unforgiving and bitter toward some family members. I didn't cry at the hospital; though I wanted to when i was burnt. And every time steam filtered up and into my face.

Maybe I've hardened. It happens to war veterans. On the other hand, war veterans have never seen the likes of my family. Come over for Thanksgiving dinner this year and watch the post traumatic stress melt away like butter.

Outside the store, I ran with my heavy cart (with a sticky wheel), downhill, into 75 degree 25 mph winds. It forced me to breathe hard, not because I was angry, but because I was working against the wind. It felt good. I should take some boxing lessons to relieve the stress. But I'd have to work more overtime to pay for them, then I'd be too tired to attend.

On the way home, I took what we call the back loop. It skims the outside line of the city, sorta, and through an industrial area. A large dog stood in my lane and I slowed. As I neared the dog, it began to cross the street. As I slowly rode the shoulder to completely avoid the dog, she turned her head and her tired brown eyes looked deep into mine. I watched the dog in my rear view mirror as she continued to cross the street, slowly, carefully.

I eyed the on-coming car as the dog settled on the far side of the shoulder and simply, slowly lay down. Something about that dog....

The backs of my eyes stung. It was no young dog. She lay on the side of the road, still and unmoving until I could no longer see her. I contemplated going back. But I was alone. What if I placed the dog in my backseat and she attacked me? Or had rabies?

Still, it was more to it than all that. When those tired brown eyes looked directly into mine, I felt a strange sense of calming. All my anger seemed moot all of a sudden. Instantly.


I know this post is very long and isn't funny at all. Maybe I'm moving into a darker tone, though it's merely temporary, I assure you. Someone who was once very close to me (we've grown apart over a few years) cut their wrist and survived. What do you expect from me right now? Tell me how I should be acting.

Maybe the next time I hurt myself, I should allow myself to cry instead of fighting it. Running against the wind feels better, though.