The human life is made up of experiences. Some we choose to
have and some are chosen for us. We all have one choice no matter the
experience we live, what to do when it is over. When it becomes part of our
past instead of our present. When it fades into memory instead of reality. When
it becomes a story told at parties instead of something to be dealt with in the
moment. We choose what we become. We choose what we will remember, what we will
tell. We choose.
She stood in that moment of choice. The event had passed and
the next one, the one where she would have to actively deal with it, had not
started yet. This was it, when she would have to choose what would happen next.
She barely understood it herself and could not imagine how she would be able to
explain it to someone else. It was over, and she wasn’t sure she knew why.
She knew the raw facts of how she had ended up here. She
knew the chain of events that had led to this. She knew the reasoning that was
given to explain what had happened. Yet, she did not understand. How had this
happened? How had it happened to her? And why could she have not seen it
coming?
She was surprised at herself. She had seen others who were
at this same point and she had thought them weak. Perhaps not totally weak but
she couldn’t understand how they could just freeze, why they didn’t fight back
or move on. She understood now. She knew how all those others felt in this
moment. She knew how their hearts suddenly felt withered and dying, the dull
pain of something missing. She knew how their insides felt like sand, coarse
and dry and lifeless. She knew how the throat closed up and barely allowed air
to enter the body. She knew how the brain began to process everything in slow
motion while watching the events leading up in fast forward. She knew how the
bones and muscles froze so that the whole body would not disintegrate with the
slightest provocation. She knew all of this because this was what was happening
to her, right now, in this moment. She was not weak. It was her fierce strength
that kept her body living.
This was the moment. The moment when she would have to make
a choice. This experience could break her or she could do something. She didn’t
have to make the choice of what to do, how to move on, or who to be next. She
needed to make a choice to break or do something, anything. It was amazing how
long it took to consider which way to go. There were compelling factors to each
argument. The attractive choice was to break, to quit. When you quit the pain,
it wasn’t gone but it felt gone. She could pretend that the pain was gone, all
the choices would not have to be made when you quit, when you were broken. It
was doing something, anything that reminded you of the pain. It was when you
moved and chose to continue to be a person that the pain stayed with you. The
choices would still have to be made and with each new choice new pain would
come, which would remind her of this pain.
To quit, to break, that was the attractive choice. And, for
a little while, she let herself believe that was the choice she would make. For
a second she forgot about the pain and the choices. For a second she was not
here, she was not her. For a second she drifted, weightless, numb. It was a
good rest. But only for a second.
She didn’t choose to break. She chose to do something
because despite the pain and the choices to be made that would bring new pain,
she remembered the people. She remembered her people. She remembered the
moments when they laughed, when they cried, when they were surprised, and when
they were amazed. She remembered how it felt to be with them and hold their
hands as they cried and wipe away tears when they laughed hard. She thought
about them if she chose to quit. It was her people, thinking about them being,
living, in this moment, having these thoughts, and making these choices. She
had to do something, for her people.
It took several more minutes. She had to force her brain to recognize
its place in the body. It took monuments effort to prepare the muscles and
joints for movement. She almost chose something different at her lungs
protesting the intake of air that was required for the brain and muscles. She
remembered her people. And with more effort than she had expelled in all the
time she could remember she took a step forward. It wasn’t a big step but it
was something. It took her a little less time to make the next one. With each
step the movements came easier.
Her heart still felt withered. Her insides were still sand.
Her brain did little more than kept her moving. And her throat still protested
the intake of air. But, she made a choice. She didn’t allow herself to think
about the choices that would need to be made latter on and all the pain that
they would bring. She made her choice. She remembered her people and kept walking
forward. At some point her brain would start to work again and things would get
easier but for now she was happy to walk forward and remember her people. She
would realize sooner or later that some of her people were right beside her,
walking with her, watching over her, and holding her hand. But her brain couldn’t
process this information.
She would be glad that they were there when it was time to
do more than walk forward and remember. She would be glad they were there.
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