Monday, December 17, 2012

A Weekend Without Words and Another Passage from 500 Days

All weekend I found it impossible to write.  After hearing about the horrific events in Connecticut, after watching President Obama's news conference, I could not bare to be online, or to read the news.  Like many Americans, I kept seeing my own community inside of the one that had been shattered.   I kept thinking about the darkness that must have gathered in each parent's heart.  I kept thinking of the joy that passes through a Kindergartner's face.  I kept thinking of all of the incredibly hard working educators I have in my life who would, without thinking, give their lives for their students. I kept thinking of those children and the faculty who were mindlessly slain and it broke my heart in two. I was without language.  But, I wept with the President.  I appreciated the weight of my boys bodies as they hugged me when I picked them up from school that day.  I baked chocolate chip cookies and rocky road fudge.  I cooked chili and soda bread.  I cleaned out the boys rooms and we snuggled together reading books.  On Sunday, we went to our church and the boys participated in the Christmas pageant.  The entire church was filled with people coming together.  The sadness was palpable.  It hung in the air like a low fog.  We remembered the names of the lost children and educators.  We prayed for them.  Then, we knit our voices together loud and strong and sang and cried.  I sang at the top of my lungs until each word felt like an individual prayer.  After Church, instead of rushing off to the grocery store, we gathered and drank coffee and talked about our lives.  We signed up to serve lunch to the homeless, or to buy clothes and presents for children in our community who will not otherwise receive presents.  And after, we drove home singing songs loud together as if shouting words out to the universe might fill us with joy again.  We repeated: Love, love, love, under our breath, even as the storm gathered and darkness pushed hard against us.

Love to all of you.  Thank you for being a part (even virtually) of my community.  Here is the next section of 500 DaysIt feels good that today is the day Amy gets rescued from the brothel:

Amy: The Rescue

The man who rushed into the room is different than the man who had his way with me the last few days.  My first thought is, oh no not another one.  But then I remember I've given up and I just look away, back to the darkness of the corner. 

"Are you Amy?" I hear a voice say.  And I look up, because no one here has ever bothered to call me by my name.  "I said, are you Amy?  If you are, there isn't much time.  I'm here to rescue you.  If you are Amy stand up.  Your Mamma is waiting outside." 

With these words the darkness that has been choking me recedes just enough for me to feel a pinprick of hope.  I stand up quick but my whole world spins in front of me.  My legs feel as if they are made of rubber and I stumble back down. 

“Here,” he says, putting his arm around my waist.  “I'll help carry you down the stairs.”  With all of these days pouring into one another, with all of the horror I've faced in the last few days I'm amazed at how quickly we descend the stairs and walk out into the bright, hot day.  There is no Madame.  There is no large looming man blocking our way, only a clear path to an open door that glows with sunlight.  I close my eyes as we walk over the threshold and when I open them again my mother is standing in front of me like a mirage.  When she sees me, tears pour from her eyes as she mutters, “Amy, Amy is it really you are you really safe?”

There is nothing I can do or say, I am so overwhelmed that the sky seems to turn over and over then it goes dark as ink.

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