Her Bad Mother

Sunday, September 2, 2007

Storm

Two days ago, I wrote this:

It's too easy to forget that most of things that cause us stress and anxiety are actually quite ridiculous, when considered against the vast, inscrutable complexity of nature and the universe and life and everything. That being human is a condition of being relentlessly silly, insofar as being human means struggling against disorder and chaos and mess and thunderstorms. We can't fight thunderstorms. They just happen.

I was wrong. There is so much that hurts us that is not ridiculous. I did say, most of the things - but to add such a proviso of proportional quantity glosses over the fact that when really bad life-storms hit, they hit with all the force of a thousand hurricanes, and shatter our boats upon upon the rocks, and cause no end of hurt. No matter how much tequila is on hand, no matter how warm the bodies pressed against us - the force of rain, of hail, of buffeting wind hurts. Bodies shatter, hearts break. Storms just happen, we can't fight them - but neither can we always shield ourselves adequately against them.

My dear friend Sandra is struggling against a storm. Please, go and stand by her. Umbrellas will break - a thousand umbrellas will break - in a storming wind, but still... the seconds of respite from hail and rain and gust they provide is worth the effort. Sometimes, they're all we have.


Wishing you calmer skies, sweet friend. Wishing them hard.

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