Waiting for a pearl


There are wires and tubes. There are machines that beep and machines that hiss. There is a mask over her mouth and nose, translucent green like glass.

I sit there looking at the nothing of her face. I am miles away in my head, on a virtual shore by a virtual sea. I am translucent green like glass, a shard shattered from regular existence, waiting to be smooth. I want the waves to wash over me, to carry me out to sea. I want to be anywhere but here.

When I believed in what the good book said, I would have taken this for refinement. But I don’t believe in the good book any more. I won’t emerge from this a piece of grit turned into a pearl.

If I could smother the life out of this, as I am being smothered by it, I would. A hundred times, a thousand. The grief that exists in the slow ebb of life astounds me. The grief that exists in every moment. The grief that crashes over me in waves.

Today I learned what GCS means. Today I learned that it is possible to drive 25 miles while crying. Today I learned nothing.