I can almost sing in my car again. I can almost lift my voice high enough to sound like a real human being. I can almost belt out at the top of my lungs while people stare at me from the other lane and look away quickly like they’re seeing something they shouldn’t – me changing my socks, my bra, my underwear. I don’t care I change in front of the windows.

I’ve liked the last couple of days where my voice has been low and throaty. Raspy almost. It’s given me a new identity. An old hippie. Janis Joplin. Rock ‘n’ Roll. It’s made me feel sexy and different and new shoes, victoria’s secret. But I’m glad to be getting my voice back. Maybe the time away will make us grow close again. Maybe we won’t fight so much. Maybe when she tells me to be patient I will actually listen. We seemed to be working well this morning. Number 100 of a rewrite and it’s still not complete but we know to be patient. To let the fins turn in the water when it wants to turn.

I found out this morning that there is a man at work who went in for unrelated back problems and they found part of his skull was missing. He bumped his head about a year ago. He went to Paris came back from Paris, work, driving, weekends, normal everyday sorts of things – all without a chunk of protection. They now say he’s in critical condition when only two days ago he was out for back problems. It makes me wonder how often we walk around with parts of ourselves missing and not even know it.

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6 Responses to unrelated

  1. Isn’t life surprising, Rachel? Shocking, too. We need our bones, our strong backs and complete skulls and yet how much of who we are and what we do in a day is beyond the body? A conundrum if ever there was one. I do hope your man from work pulls through, that a special something will come to take the place of his missing piece and he will wake from this strange and unexpected place more intact because of it.

    Thank you for these beautiful lines ‘. . . we know to be patient. To let the fins turn in the water when it wants to turn. ‘

    How much more buoyant we are in water – our wise unconscious, birth fluid, bath tub, rain storm, puddle. Let us drink – and deeply.

    Love, Claire x

    • rachvb says:

      Life is very bazaar! The things our bodies can live without or with sometimes is also very bazaar. We do seem to react to things outside that keep trying to get in – constantly fighting them off. Yes, the man from work is OK. We just heard and he is talking. I think they will put a steel plate over his noggin though. odd odd odd. very odd.

      Ah yes, the one place on earth we can be weightless or at least as close to it as possible. I watched a program about the men going to fix the hubble and they practiced in water because it was the closest environment to space they could find.
      Puddles. I like puddles very much. =)

  2. How strange that would be, go to the doctor for one ailment and have them tell you that a crucial part is missing…you had no idea. We come through times, situations, which when we look back, we discover that something vital may have been left behind. I think of veterans who have gone to search for their MIA buddies, years after the war ended. No steel plates for some of these voids, they remain unprotected. I am glad that the man from work has a good prognosis.

    • rachvb says:

      Yes, why do we discover the crucial things when the situation has already passed? It’s mean.
      My heart goes out to those who are searching for what is lost. It’s something that can almost never be filled.

  3. “It makes me wonder how often we walk around with parts of ourselves missing and not even know it.” – I’d argue that we do this everyday…to some extent. Perhaps, without meaning to, this could be your little red bracelet?

    I really love your posts.

    • rachvb says:

      My little red bracelet is missing and I know it’s missing and now that I know I keep looking and hoping to find it. I do think it just needed a little extra attention and it’s pouting somewhere – at least I hope. I do know that if and when I find it I will guard that thing with my life and put it exactly in the same spot every day.
      I don’t think we deliberately walk around with missing pieces, half the time we just don’t know what’s missing until we find it or something or someone. I’d like to think that’s how we keep growing and adding pieces to our puzzles.
      Thanks, Julia. Thanks for reading. =) Say hello to the Toad Tunnel for me and Hunans – oh yeah, say hello to Hunans and Dos Coyotes.

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