for lindsey

It was a perfect moment of the understated kind. One where nothing revolutionary or groundbreaking occurs; nothing terribly exciting or memorable has happened. Yet I think it’s when I knew something had indefinitely changed.  She looked so comfortable sitting with her skinny legs stretched up on my dashboard, her eyes having finally closed, succumbing to the joy of a late afternoon nap in the passenger seat.  The sun was beginning its decent behind the rolling California hills, projecting a warm orange hue thru the open windows of my car, (all of which were sending the kind of summer breeze through our tangled hair that makes a summer breeze worth mentioning).  The National sang on the stereo to us in a just-before-dusk way; sounding warm and velvety, calm and effortless.  My skin held the faint scent of chlorine from our swim in the hotel pool and had pinked and tightened a bit from the time in the sun.  I knew we needed to stop for dinner but as each rest stop and small town turn-off passed us by I couldn’t bring myself to wake her.  She just looked so…small.  Like someone who had seen too much life for her age.  Like a child you want to scoop up into your arms and soothe after they’ve fallen down by saying ‘it’s ok, you’re safe now, I won’t leave you.’  She’d never outwardly asked for help from me.  I'm not sure she'd accept it if offered. But looking at her so still in this moment I knew I wanted to protect her.  Her usual sound, one of a chaotic embrace of freedoms, had dipped to a steady hum keeping time with her breathing.  Her presence now seemed like the white noise from a fan turning on a hot summer night, when you sleep with just sheets and your hair still damp from a bath. I hardly recognized her. And I wanted to keep her this way. I wanted to keep her safe.  I didn’t know how I was going to accomplish this; I had no money, little resources.  I had made quite the mess of my own life in the past 3 years and there wasn’t much on the horizon that suggested an imminent change.  Who was I to get involved in her life this way? What did I truly have to offer? But the moment was perfect.  The sounds and the smells and the views and the warmth and the stillness...they were perfect.  The details could be left for later. For now I would just breathe her in, content in this feeling of loving my new friend.


In Gratitude,


Trish

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