Upon a Sunny Day

It’s when you wake up and realize you’re not anxious. Not really worried today. Just tired. Tired for no real reason and sad. Desperately sad because nothing will happen today. Nothing that will fill the void. Nothing that will bring back what’s been lost. Or what was never to be. It’s just a day. The sun is there but muted. The sky is that gray shade it so often is this time of year. My Pantone app tells me Steel Wool is very current. The wind. The promise of a cold rain later. There is nowhere to go but the usual places. The routine. Then home. Home to realize there is not going to be a change tomorrow. Maybe another day. Sure. There is hope. Always hope but with hope comes a risk. A realization might be safer and there is a light at the end of the tunnel. An eventual deluge. When, is anyone’s guess. We’re all in this together yet. I often feel very much alone. 

There is a sadness which permeates. Which never truly goes away. The antithesis of joy. Felt even on the happiest of days. The sadness which proclaims you’ll only always have second best. You’ll forever be faced with the “at least” statements. The realization you have everything yet. There is still a list of what you wish was. A desire to go back. Way, way back and begin again. It’s impossible though despite however many times people say you can. The truth is. There is a point. A point which when crossed. Leads to highs and lows and the truth. Knowing the truth is when it begins. And ends.

I wanted to tell her. 

I was going to tell her he would have killed that boy. Which might ring a bit dramatic but it’s the truth. I saw a police officer chase a kid. The boy was running and the officer yelled, “Stop or I’ll shoot!” and I almost yelled at the boy to stop. Please, please stop because he will. He will shoot you. And someone will have to call your mother or your granny or your aunt or whoever the adult woman in your life is and tell her. That you did something dumb but not worthy of being killed at 5:30 in the evening on a Monday. A mistake and a bunch of law enforcement personnel running around, having no idea I am up hear recording the entire scene. I was shaking after. Thankfully. Only an arrest. No one left multiple hours on the ground.

Maybe the most incredible part is they high five each other once it’s over. Some I’m sure would say it’s due to the relief. A job well done and no one hurt. I saw something different and my opinions were confirmed. 

I know how she would have responded. 

My plan was to walk over and find her still on her porch. State my statement. Then she would have told me. Calmly. In a collected manner. “He shouldn’t have run from the police.” I’m sure if pressed she would report she is a good citizen. Her family owns an electric car. Most likely did not vote for Trump. She believes that she believes Black lives matter. Considers herself fairly liberal. Yet would concede that a police officer must do his duty and that’s all that was happening. I would glare at her. I might, depending. Tell her I hope she could have lived with herself had he been… I don’t want to type the word. But I believe she could have. Would have. 

I was already down. Already unsettled. This wasn’t the worst scenario I had heard of in the last week. Which is maybe the crux of it all. I come from a problem solver mentality. If something is broken. Let’s fix it. Or find someone to fix it. And if we have to pay for someone to fix it. Let’s figure out how much it’s gonna be and make a plan to pay for someone else to give us the plan and so on and so on. 

Knowing the truth. Logic is not interpreted in the same manner. What’s what to me is not necessarily. What you see and how you measure. Sometimes we are on the brink. We want to march over and make an announcement. A once and for all. Proclaim our thoughts. Our finality. And then wait for a response. Which will possibly never come. Because some people just live their lives. They continue. Whether affected or not. Day by day. The ones who have managed to subdue or even better. Don’t even realize. I heard the echo today. Down the hall. Why can’t we just get along(?) type of verbiage and that is so silly. So absolutely ridiculous because for the love of everything holy. Wouldn’t we have figured it out by now if it was that easy? Ma’am. Boys are dying in the street. Girls are texting for rides to the hospital. Meanwhile you’re pointing and proclaiming he went that way. But you’re educated. Wise. Probably blame the music. 

My thoughts are scattered. I write to process. Naturally I want to pinpoint someone. Something. A reason for my disenchantment. A reason for my fears. A reason why I hope. My pastor texted me this week and told me he’d left my Lent kit on my doorstep. I always say summer is my favorite season. But I cherish this time of year. Not winter. But the transition. Knowing that spring will come. I walked across the street for another reason on another day. I remembered the flowers. The bulbs. Tulips and daffodils. The first of the season. Vibrancy and the reminder. Sometimes all I have left of a belief. The full circle and again. Hope. The leaves are there. Emergence from the recently snow covered ground. Soon. The blooms.