Sunday, June 17, 2012

For him who fell while carrying the Cross

Because I don’t want to be as subtle as a sledge hammer, seeing as this subject and others related to it are likely to be topics of my next posts.

***

I wonder what kind of day it was when you were told the news.

Was it warm and sun-splashed, typical of Southern California, or were the skies oddly gray? Did you slump in stunned silence, did you clutch your head in disbelief or did you punch something unbreakable until it shattered (because that’s what happened to your heart)? I wonder how close you came to running after Weston with a blowtorch or something equally foolish.

I wonder if they saw you, and I wonder if they had any idea that the world had come crashing down.

***

I wonder how you felt every time they looked at you.

Did you want to scream, did you want to kick something (or someone, maybe yourself), or did you resign yourself to your doomed fate and just tried to think about what best to do next? Did you think about keeping them all, fuck everything and everyone else, or did you at once accept that the best thing for them is to find new homes so they could go on living the happy lives they deserve?

I wonder if they perceived the sadness in your eyes, if they went to you to try to cheer you up. And as you felt the love they tried to give you, I wonder how many times you asked yourself how the hell you got there.

***

I wonder if you felt like dying every time you gave one of them away.

Did you whisper promises that everything will be alright, that you’ll come visit often, that someday you’ll all be together again? Did you tell the new owners to take care of them, to call you if anything happens? Were you able to walk away without looking back, fearing that if you did you’ll change your mind and not let go?

And when it was the time for the prince you crowned (the one who made you king) to go, I wonder if you were able to say goodbye without tears in your eyes. Moreover, precisely how many times on the trip from Alabama you cried when you remembered that when you get back to California, he’s not going to be there with you anymore.

***

I wonder how you feel now, every time you go home to a yard that used to be filled with so much happy memories and now has too few.

I wonder if you regret it. I wonder if you wish you hadn’t been desperate or selfish. Maybe you’d still have most of your friends, both those who walk on two feet and those who walk on four. I wonder if you make calls all the time; how is he, how is she, how is the litter, I would give up anything to have even the last pick but you know I can’t have it registered under my name.

And when she - the queen, the one you kept because she is bound to you as she is bound to each and every one of them, the one you can’t let go, will never let go – comes to you for love, I wonder if you are able to give her a small smile.
 

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