I was looking over my computer screen this morning, vacantly watching out through my window at the morning’s overcast day. Far in the distance, on the over side of the bay, my eyes were focused on a small red and white brick house across the water that had always been standing there and I was thinking … about a women I had once loved. I knew her very well and pondered how she could never really feel much of my empathy for her, blocked by the heavy medicinal medicine the doctors continued to give her to combat her life threatening long running complex PTSD anxiety. It was her terror of having such extreme anxiety return that stopped her giving the medicines up, despite her emotional cost. Nevertheless she persisted struggling within herself and outwardly trying many varied strategies for a way that would bring back the joy in her life, instead of being forever trapped in her ordinary middleness hell of a life, that was remorsefully nicely and tightly packaged between anxiety and happiness. A mediocre life, so different to her previous life of high energy and radiance many years before, though buried deep down inside her, she stubbornly remembered, even if silently to everyone but herself. Nothing bad and yet nothing great either. So after her years experiment with me that did not bring her back to that real life she once had in abundance, like the previous men over the years, she told me one mid morning I had to go, and in that second, without either of us saying, we both knew without having to say a word ( which would have been useless anyway ), the medicine was more important to her and I ( like many people and activities before me ) I had failed to release her from her medicated emotional jail. So I too had to go and she would move on to try someone or something else with some remote hope, but never the medicine; no that had to stay no matter what. Perhaps a new car next time, or a holiday in Paris.
Just at that moment, I notice in my line of sight, two birds flying close to each other as if holding hands in the distance, flying straight at me. And I thought how wonderful that would have been to catch with a movie camera on a long telephoto lens because they flew that way, straight at me, for what seemed like ages. Then at the last moment, just before reaching the tree in front of my house, they turned away, together. Only then did I realise what a wonderful sign they were for me. And I felt this deep sadness wash over me, like a giant wave in the surf. I touched this pain. A pain this time though, that did not brake my heart. And also just like the birds suddenly flying over and away, this sadness and moment too passed and I was again myself, free of the pain.
© 2017, James Harry Burton. All rights reserved.