I belong to a lovely local writing group. This morning we met via Zoom. Our previous homework was to take a picture with people in it and write a little story. I madly rushed around the house this morning, hunting for magazines to help me with the assignment. I couldn't find any. But since the photo below was so haunting for me this week, I chose it to write about. See my piece below.
If only I could stop. If only I could stop thinking, maybe I wouldn’t be here. How could I have let it get this far?
I am afraid. I never thought I would be afraid of dying but lying here on the concrete, I wonder how I will survive.
I don’t deserve pity.
I don’t deserve to live.
But here I am, lying on concrete, in my little section of this parking lot, all alone.
Somehow this is peaceful.
I feel a strange safety in being out in the open.
What if it rains?
The rain always reminds me that the world can be gentle but also violent and damaging.
The rhythm of the rain always helped me focus. My mind is in constant upheaval, split into a thousand different directions but the drops calm me so I can hold one single thought, if even for a moment.
There is beauty in ungracefulness.
There is love in messiness,
There is growth in sorrow,
And there is tomorrow in yesterday.
I lie on my back and think about all the bad decisions, the shame, the guilt.
Is there hope for me?
There is hope for all of us, I am now certain.
But I am still afraid.