Prison yard scene

November 20, 2009

I get to wondering about her sometimes. It's a wondering without sadness. No tears, no ache, just thoughts, pictures, conversations. We're sitting across from each other at a table. The kind of tables you see people sit across from each other at during visiting hours at the prison in the movies. Strange, I know, but that's what I see. We're outside in the prison yard, only there are no fences. Just us sitting across from each other at the table. Unfamiliar with each other, but still wanting to talk, to visit, to get to know each other.

There are three versions of this scene. In one, she is a young adult body, a spirit, a soul, but there's a blank look on her face. There is no knowing. She just is. And she sits across from me and we take each other in.

In another she is the same body, spirit, soul, but she is able to articulate her experiences. And that's what I'm hungry for. Tell me more. Tell me more. I'll sit and listen until the guards say we have to stop. And this is what she tells me:

Yeah, for a while there were just sensations, you know, energy surges and ebbs, rocking, bouncing, floating. But then there were sounds. Oh sure, I knew your voice, and dad's too. I'd know your voices anywhere. And there was a dog too. He'd bark and it would make me jump and then I'd feel you jiggle with laughter. I knew your voice the best. I could feel it vibrate inside me. I shuddered when you would cry. I heard dad singing to us. I felt the warmth of him through your skin. I knew it was him. I knew something was wrong mom. I knew it. I could feel things slowing down. They slowed down, but they stayed steady, so I tried to stay steady too. I wasn't scared. It's just that things reached a point when I thought, It's not right. Now's not the time. And so I decided to let go.

In the third, she is also the same body, spirit, and soul, but she is all knowing. She understands. She is wise beyond anything this world knows. She does the listening. And she comforts me. And she answers all my questions. She's bright, like the sunshine, and she's strong. But I know her so well, even though we've never consciously met. She has all these mannerisms that I know intimately. Her humor - I know her humor so well. It delights me and mystifies me. And I think that she is more beautiful than anything - she's so unspoiled, untouched. That's her brightness - the shine she would have lost in this world. And so it's okay. You know? It's okay.