click.

*

i sat up in bed this morning--click. turned the switch for my alarm. i looked out the window at the grey world. drizzle speckled the window--another cold, windy day. clickclickclickclick..the vent is always rattling, and always blowing cold air. i let myself slide back under the blankets, covering my head and grumbling at the new day. i hear muffled sounds of ringing. silently cursing the caller for making me crawl out from my hiding place again, i reach for the phone.

hello?
silence. i'm thinking to myself 'this had better not be a telemarketer...'
hello?
yes, is amanda there?
this...is she.
ah, 'morning. i'm calling from _____ (i stopped listening there. i have no idea what they said or why. and i'm not at all concerned. i have a feeling i didn't miss much.)
um, i'm sorry--i'm not really interested.
click.

yea. i hung up on another telemarketer. one more for the tally. i roll over, reaching to turn on my computer monitor from my bed. grab the mouse. click. no messages--of course not. good. keyboard--type in the address to check on the earlier match. click click click tap tap tap. loading. in the mean time--click open new window. i check the weather forcast, which only confirms the cold. windy. dreary conclusions i'd already drawn. click--back to the match scores, finally loaded. click-scroll-agh...they lost.


lost. wandering around within the moments. between the crevices of moments, just trying to find a way out of this twisted concrete dungeon. you'd think after twenty years of breathing i could figure out what i am. twenty years, and all i'm sure of are which breaths were most valuable. that doesn't get me much, tho--or you. valuable is another relative term. valuable to me, is clearly different than valuable to you. what do i find valuable? the Sky. rain. warm afternoons, slightly cooler evenings. sitting with you under a starlit sky of black velvet. watching the waves for hours, dreaming of going somewhere, out there, someday. but not knowing quite where 'out there' is. there's a song for you--even if it is from a kid's movie i haven't seen in ten years.

--
start tape

somewhere, out there beneath the pale moonlight
someone's thinking of me and loving me tonight

somewhere, out there someone's saying a prayer
that we'll find one another in that big somewhere out there

and even though i know how very far apart we are
it helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star
and when the night wind starts to sing a lonesome lullaby
it helps to think we're sleeping underneath the same big sky

somewhere, out there if love can see us through
then we'll be together somewhere out there
out where dreams come true


somewhere out there, from An American Tale



click. end of tape.
-

poor idealistic kid. i suppose there's part of a child singing that song in me, holding on. hoping for...something. i can't remember. i've been ignoring that child. shoving it back. playing hide and seek with her. you know the game. i told her to go hide, and didn't try to look for her again. she always comes back out. they always wander out of their hiding places, wide eyed and wonderful. curious--
you couldn't find me? ok, let's play again! this time, you hide! she wants a turn to play.
no, i tell her, i'm tired of this game.
please? just once more? you hide, and i'll hide again! then we'll be finished. just once more.
well, okay. but just once.
and i go to hide, a corner behind a door. click. she turns the handle of the door, gently lets it swing open and it hits my toe. she finds me quickly, as i expected. now it's her turn, once more.
go hide, luv. i tell her. go on and hide. and she goes. everytime.



and she goes. once, the child wandered into the back of the house in search of the perfect hiding place. click click click....she heard the hangers hit each other as she stepped to the back of her parents' dark walk-in closet. her elbow hit a shelf, knocking off something hard and heavy. she bent to the floor and felt for the misplaced object. her eyes adjusted to the dim light...found it. she took it in both hands, and wrapped her fingers around it--discovered its handle, a hole for her right forefinger, a lever. she tried to look inside the cool, slender cylinder. it was deep, and got heavier the longer she held it. she squinted, holding it closer, trying to see into its thick, black opening. holding it tighter, so she wouldn't drop it, she squeezed her right hand...

click.

perfect hiding place. she'll be hiding forever.



children. such odd little creatures. angels and demons in one bright, shiny little package with a particular glow in their eyes. as much as i pretend to mock it, that glow is beautiful. there's nothing that crushes me more than to see a child who's already lost that look in his eyes. and it makes me wonder--when did i lose it. They would tell you i was a happy child. strong. maybe even brave. i've never been what They imagined me to be.

he asked me one day how someone else might describe me. which was easy enough--at least for a surface description. then he asked how i would describe myself. i found myself at a loss for words. i couldn't answer. or didn't want to, i'm not sure which.


which. witch. sandwich. sand. beach. sea. seaview. i want to see the sky and every sea from every angle. i want to find what's out there, even if i'm not meant to stay. i want to see it. all of it. just once. maybe i'm looking for Home. Peace. my Soul. he said he'd found peace, once. but it wasn't good enough. i wonder if he'd really found it at all. i wonder if it exists, anymore.

don't worry. it does. i've seen it. i even felt it somewhere within me. the child didn't know what it was, and didn't care. but the rest knew. and the rest will always care.


it's the breaths between the moments that matter. breathe with me. breathe for me. just for tonight. just once.



imagine Something. Somewhere.