Wings
Jesse didn't know what she wanted to think about first. She
wished there were someone she could talk with about this angel business, but
didn't know who. She scanned the circle of people in her life, and no one
seemed to fit. Jesse tried to imagine finding out that you're adopted or
from a certain ethnic group, and how this might cause a shift in your being, but
nothing had really prepared her for this. No, everything had prepared her
for this; that had to be the truth.
As she looked around this enchanting room, a startling thought
appeared: she wouldn't be near the ocean any more. The ocean was her
life jacket that she psychically wore to help keep her afloat in a sea of
concrete that constantly threatened to pull her into the eddying chaos of the
city. Knowing the vast expanse of the ocean was not too far from one side
of her in LA kept her sane and calm, and she never lived far from it. She
wondered if the forest would ever evoke the same feelings for her, or if she
would need it to.
She looked around the room and could taste the salt water and
hear the waves as they crashed onto the sandy shore. She loved the beach
at night and cherished her many memories there. Walking alone on the beach
at night both scared her and soothed her. The emptiness scared her because
she was tempted to fill up all that space with horrible imaginings, the way a
child does if the closet door is left open after the lights are turned out.
It soothed her because she felt at one with its vastness, and knew that
far beneath its surface lived a whole unseen world like herself.
As a
teenager, she traded her solitary shoreline explorations for partying with
friends or boys, and it was at the beach one night with her boyfriend that she
became a woman. She could romanticize history all she wanted, and it made a
lovely story, but the truth was it was cold, gritty and it hurt a little. None
of this stopped her from further explorations, and her innocence was sacrificed
to the waves who carried it off to sea, never to be seen or heard from again.
She didn't love the memory of her childhood, but she had long since tired
of hating it and realized that history, like the present, is all about
perception. She realized that each moment had been chosen like a precious
present, a gift that her soul both needed and wanted, and to discount the value
of any of it would be to say that God had erred, and this could not be true.
God can use anything, and everything is a blessing if we will but see it
as such. Jesse gazed around the pretty room and let the ambiance it was
designed to create swallow her up into an ocean of memories and yearnings.
After a short while, Jesse remembered they hadn't brought in their bags
from the van and turned to go downstairs. She met Julia coming down the
hall toward her, bags in tow.
"God bless you, I just remembered the bags, too. You're
so good. Thank you." Jesse took her bags from Julia.
"You're welcome. I needed a job to do right now.
Awareness is the first step to recovery." She smiled, and Jesse
was relieved. We laugh to survive.
"Can I help you with yours?" Jesse already knew
the answer.
"I got it. Thanks."
"Goodnight."
"'night."
Julia was right. Having the bags to unpack created a
sense of normalcy to the moment that Jesse didn't realize she needed. She
put her clothes in the dresser and stowed the bags in the closet. The
bathroom was next door, and since she'd be the only one using it this trip she
went to put her stuff in there.
Ah, this room, she thought as she sighed
out loud. Between the foundation the Reeds had laid, and the work her
folks did from there, none of them spared any detail or expense on this place.
Every room was an enchanted haven. This bathroom was Jesse's
personal favorite, but the most high maintenance room in the whole place. The
tub, a two person in-floor Japanese soaking tub, sink and tiles were black
porcelain, with red and violet accents in the decor. It was bold,
unexpected, a total pain to keep clean in this dusty climate, and the most
exotic room Jesse had ever seen. A queen palm bordered one wall, creating
an archway overhead above the sink and counter top and a lush tropical air.
The accessories were sparse as the contrasting sharp colors were enough.
She ran water into the bath and decide against bubbles. Her senses
were handling just about all they could, and bubbles might be just the thing to
put her over the top. This made her laugh, and her thoughts turned to Kali
and how her little feline friend would adapt to life in God's country. My
friends, Jesse thought, sorrowfully. This would be the hardest part, and
she was nowhere near ready to go here. She valued this aspect of her
present life more than anything, and wondered if perhaps she would be trading
too much. She had worked so hard to develop socially, and now life was
hurling her out into the middle of nowhere, to say nothing of her assigned
compadre, and she feared she would retreat back to the safety of her cave.
Would she be able to make new friends here?
Her memory of this from
high school was unpleasant, but she had to trust that she was not the only one
who had grown up. Still, she questioned her willingness to change life
situations too easily, and never knew whether this ability belonged in the pro
or con column. Her thoughts moved onto work. This was okay. She
was finished there, really. She'd spent the past eight years in the same
professional circle, and felt that she'd be leaving at the top of her game.
She had accomplished what ten years before seemed impossible: transact
business with love. She noticed as she watched the water flow into the
bath that she was exhausting herself with her mental check list, and chided
herself when she said out loud, "This must be what it's like being
Julia." Do only one thing. She watched the water flow and let
her mind watch the water flow.
The bath felt so relaxing she wished she could let herself fall
asleep. She closed her eyes and began to pray, but instead reached for the
silence. Enough thoughts for one day, she told herself. Be here now.
Ha! Curiosity alone will keep me here now, she chuckled. Mentally,
she began emptying her mind and sweeping away thoughts until eventually she saw
a clear spot, and held her focus there. A few thoughts attempted to
return, and she gently hushed them and sent them off. It's amusing and
perhaps even another myth of mysticism that the most challenging part of
meditation is shutting up.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
|
