There was a storm and the power went out one evening in my building. Liz went to stay by a friend and I was not going to be home until late that night. It was an early morning when I was thrust into a conversation with a man named, “Doc.” We were discussing life and the ability to stand tall time and again after being knocked down.
“But there is no currency in resilience, backbone or heart. Resilience does not pay the bills. But resilient I am and resilient I must be.” I told him sounding kind of pompous but not feeling so.
“Of course there is currency in resilience. You could have just rolled over and quit so many times – but you kept at it. You re-invented yourself, changed careers, marketed yourself and then changed careers again and again, why?”
“Because I have no choice.” I put my head in my right hand and tried to force tears that didn’t exist.
“What do you mean you had no choice?”
“I am by nature not a quitter. Plus there are bills to pay.”
“Hence my statement that there is currency in resilience.”
“Its getting me lately, Doc, its causing me to flinch where I never did before. Its causing ‘tearless’ crying which makes me feel as if I have never shed a tear.”
“Crying is not defined by specific terms. Crying means to shed tears because of an overwhelming emotion. But the tears can be the feelings or the words expressed. Not everyone can understand that. We all mourn in our own way, we laugh to heal the inner hurt, we cry to open up the wounds to help them heal. You cannot heal unless you feel – you cannot scar unless the wound has been allowed to bleed.”
“I don’t either understand or agree with what you are saying.”
“Bottom line? Don’t worry so much about expressing your feelings – just feel them and don’t fear them.”
I walked away from the discussion still feeling like there was a grenade about to go off inside of me – any misstep would cause it to explode – so I walk softly and try not to jump, slip or fall. Walking on this trampoline its not as simple or as fun as it sounds.
The old lady Elizabeth died last night. I couldn’t give her the time she wanted back. Time is not something we can refund – once its spent its gone forever. He funeral was this morning and only myself and the Reverend for hire were there.
“In life some walk alone and then in death alone again.” He took a sip from a plastic cup. “We are given finite time in life – in death we are thrust into infinity.” He said a prayer, picked up his cup and walked away.
I wanted to say something – but there was no one in the room but her and I. I walked towards the casket and whispered to her – “Well, time is reset and its a do-over for you. Live in this death as you were not allowed to in your life.”
I turned to leave and noticed a clock on the wall, the arms spinning into the future.
Who am I? Why am I here?
I walked towards the train station and walked down the stairs to the platform. I stood there waiting and in a daze until I noticed a lady staring at me. I wasn’t in the mood to be “God” right now and I wasn’t in the mood to be social. She walked towards me, she looked familiar.
“Hello.” She smiled.
“Hello.” I responded, disarmed by her smile.
“Thank you, Freddy.”
Something was awakened within me – an emotion or a dead part of my psyche. For the first time in a long time I felt stirrings within. As the train lunged forward I turned to see the girl but she had gone.
The train slowed to a stop between stations – I looked outside the window and all I could see was an infinity sign on the walls in the darkness. In my memory it looked like this.
I went home that night to a dark entrance and I found a note written by someone I love.
“Can you handle this night without me? See you in the morning – Love you…Liz.”
If love is indeed infinite in one sense or another; is it possible that time and love are constant? That love surrounds us from a time and place that is no longer tangible in our minds – but in our hearts we reach out our hand to be held, we long for the embrace and we thirst for the kiss. So we keep on filling in the void in our hearts with literature, art and rock n roll, until the day will come when time and love are in tandem. When we will reach out our hand be held, when we will open our arms to embrace and we will thirst no more for the kiss…
Love and time both wasted and so often taken for granted.
Love and time both needed to sustain a sense of a life, a sense of a meaning in a world filled with tornadoes of falsehoods.
So we live our lives towards the goal of an infinite time and an infinite love.
As the sun rises, I can hear my front door opening and the sound of keys on the table by the door. Soft footsteps and the door to my room opens slowly. Time and love…
Freddy Zalta 