| Biographical Non-Fiction posted December 6, 2023 | Chapters: |
...15 16 -17- 18... 
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Normal life while waiting, I wonder
A chapter in the book Spectre
The Quiet
by Lea Tonin1
Do your dance of circumstance
Plead no more from me
Beat your horse it's dead of course
Blind your eyes to see
Make your move which has no groove
Your path's gone to ground
Filled with mud deceitful sludge
No more will you be found
Volcanoes rise your purpose dies
In face of greater power.
These many years of created tears
No longer is your hour
************************************
I feel as if the wide dragnet is finally coming closer together. That the circle is getting smaller. I play the hurry up and wait game, while I gather my ducks in a row.
I hear the old voices in my head, berating me and saying, "how could you do this? How could you air our dirty laundry? How could you put it out there for everyone to read?"
The old voice sings that same song round and round in a crazy carousel. Then I come back to myself and I think, "sixteen years on the end of fist that's how."
Today we are back to typical rainforest country of a constant, steady drizzle we are used to in this part of the world.
"It's raining until May and that's the weather."
I figure the weather man can take the time off until then. Lol
Rain does make the world smell fresh again, especially when you live in a city in the lower mainland where lots of people drive like maniacs and everybody's busy.
I feel a bit introspective today. A little bit of inward thinking, I guess you might call it. Waiting for all the ducks to be in a row, I dream up all kinds of scenarios.
Although I must wait in the here and now, we can see what we can do about the waiting back then....
There's only one way to do that and it's to sit down in front of my PC and carry on....
*****************************
We spent the morning playing some games with the children, which they seemed to enjoy. There was a bit of a language barrier but Mom did her best to translate. I attempted to teach the young ones how to play 'Fish'. Since they weren't too far into elementory school, it was a little bit difficult but, instead of calling a number, I showed them the card.
I kept saying go fish, Mom would translate, then they'd look around the room crinkling their noses. It was pretty comical actually.
It was nice to see Mrs. D smile even though her throat still hurt.
Every once in a while though, we'd hear the rumble of an engine go by the house. Mrs. D would stiffen up and would look at the door waiting for it to open. When the sound rumbled away, she would loosen up again. I knew this feeling of trepidation. The fear of waiting for the axe to fall.
I hated it, and I'm pretty sure she hated it too. Living in fear keeps a person on alert round the clock leaving me shaky too. Although, no way to live, the senses are highly active, highly in tune with every thing around. Every sound, every change in light, the change in pressure, the creak on the stairs, the turn of the handle and finally the shape in the doorway.
I sometimes think we know it before the perpetrator does and I knew everything she was thinking and feeling and all the emotions she went through, especially with someone who's supposed to love her and protect her.
This frustration is the hardest. I knew all those things and more. I understood the fear and nervousness that she was experiencing. Take the experience of hyper vigilance times sixteen years. So imagine the mind who's scared of someone. The tremendous advantage that ability can have. Not always, but it can sometimes, save your life.
I wanted to tell her that. Because I didn't know it until I finally made the connection myself. I always thought I was just afraid. I wanted to tell her to trust yourself to trust your instincts and never hesitate.
She turned on some cartoons for the kids and returned to the kitchen table. With a sigh she looked at me with sad eyes. Quietly, I pointed to the scar on my lip where my tooth had been shoved through. Then I showed her the scar under my chin. I showed her the scar on the bridge of my nose where a beer can had stuck right in the bone. I showed her all these scars and then produced a fist and put it under my chin.
She came to realize I knew what she was going through. I had lived through it too but, not from a spouse.
From a stepfather.
I saw tears come to her eyes which she quickly shook off.
For the remainder of the afternoon, the kids played quietly. Occasionally they would watch the TV.
I tried my best to help her in the kitchen but, had no clue what she was cooking. I knew it smelled interesting though.
She just smiled at me and said she would call me when it's time. I took that as my queue to go downstairs and give her a little bit of space.
There was no sign of Mr. D that night or the next night for that matter but on the third night...
Then I heard a woman weeping....
*****************************
The tension of those two nights I remember, did not afford much rest as I recall.
That's the thing though. I recall everything. I remember all of it.
Everyday that impacted my memory. I remember it.
Same memory I took with me in my professional life. I also have it in my comedy one too. I can remember thousands of jokes. Personally one merely has to pick a subject.
I very often wish I didn't remember everything. My one sister can count her memories on her hand and my younger sister was rescued at age five by her father with her own scars to bear.
But someone needs to, I'm that someone. So I'm going to keep on riding the emotional roller coaster, knowing that there's a means to an end.
I thank you all for hanging in there with me. Although hard at times, I feel your presence. Thank you everyone!
Do your dance of circumstance
Plead no more from me
Beat your horse it's dead of course
Blind your eyes to see
Make your move which has no groove
Your path's gone to ground
Filled with mud deceitful sludge
No more will you be found
Volcanoes rise your purpose dies
In face of greater power.
These many years of created tears
No longer is your hour
************************************
I feel as if the wide dragnet is finally coming closer together. That the circle is getting smaller. I play the hurry up and wait game, while I gather my ducks in a row.
I hear the old voices in my head, berating me and saying, "how could you do this? How could you air our dirty laundry? How could you put it out there for everyone to read?"
The old voice sings that same song round and round in a crazy carousel. Then I come back to myself and I think, "sixteen years on the end of fist that's how."
Today we are back to typical rainforest country of a constant, steady drizzle we are used to in this part of the world.
"It's raining until May and that's the weather."
I figure the weather man can take the time off until then. Lol
Rain does make the world smell fresh again, especially when you live in a city in the lower mainland where lots of people drive like maniacs and everybody's busy.
I feel a bit introspective today. A little bit of inward thinking, I guess you might call it. Waiting for all the ducks to be in a row, I dream up all kinds of scenarios.
Although I must wait in the here and now, we can see what we can do about the waiting back then....
There's only one way to do that and it's to sit down in front of my PC and carry on....
*****************************
We spent the morning playing some games with the children, which they seemed to enjoy. There was a bit of a language barrier but Mom did her best to translate. I attempted to teach the young ones how to play 'Fish'. Since they weren't too far into elementory school, it was a little bit difficult but, instead of calling a number, I showed them the card.
I kept saying go fish, Mom would translate, then they'd look around the room crinkling their noses. It was pretty comical actually.
It was nice to see Mrs. D smile even though her throat still hurt.
Every once in a while though, we'd hear the rumble of an engine go by the house. Mrs. D would stiffen up and would look at the door waiting for it to open. When the sound rumbled away, she would loosen up again. I knew this feeling of trepidation. The fear of waiting for the axe to fall.
I hated it, and I'm pretty sure she hated it too. Living in fear keeps a person on alert round the clock leaving me shaky too. Although, no way to live, the senses are highly active, highly in tune with every thing around. Every sound, every change in light, the change in pressure, the creak on the stairs, the turn of the handle and finally the shape in the doorway.
I sometimes think we know it before the perpetrator does and I knew everything she was thinking and feeling and all the emotions she went through, especially with someone who's supposed to love her and protect her.
This frustration is the hardest. I knew all those things and more. I understood the fear and nervousness that she was experiencing. Take the experience of hyper vigilance times sixteen years. So imagine the mind who's scared of someone. The tremendous advantage that ability can have. Not always, but it can sometimes, save your life.
I wanted to tell her that. Because I didn't know it until I finally made the connection myself. I always thought I was just afraid. I wanted to tell her to trust yourself to trust your instincts and never hesitate.
She turned on some cartoons for the kids and returned to the kitchen table. With a sigh she looked at me with sad eyes. Quietly, I pointed to the scar on my lip where my tooth had been shoved through. Then I showed her the scar under my chin. I showed her the scar on the bridge of my nose where a beer can had stuck right in the bone. I showed her all these scars and then produced a fist and put it under my chin.
She came to realize I knew what she was going through. I had lived through it too but, not from a spouse.
From a stepfather.
I saw tears come to her eyes which she quickly shook off.
For the remainder of the afternoon, the kids played quietly. Occasionally they would watch the TV.
I tried my best to help her in the kitchen but, had no clue what she was cooking. I knew it smelled interesting though.
She just smiled at me and said she would call me when it's time. I took that as my queue to go downstairs and give her a little bit of space.
There was no sign of Mr. D that night or the next night for that matter but on the third night...
Then I heard a woman weeping....
*****************************
The tension of those two nights I remember, did not afford much rest as I recall.
That's the thing though. I recall everything. I remember all of it.
Everyday that impacted my memory. I remember it.
Same memory I took with me in my professional life. I also have it in my comedy one too. I can remember thousands of jokes. Personally one merely has to pick a subject.
I very often wish I didn't remember everything. My one sister can count her memories on her hand and my younger sister was rescued at age five by her father with her own scars to bear.
But someone needs to, I'm that someone. So I'm going to keep on riding the emotional roller coaster, knowing that there's a means to an end.
I thank you all for hanging in there with me. Although hard at times, I feel your presence. Thank you everyone!
 Recognized |
Is this chapter is part of an auto bio called Spectre book two in the series. But one is called ghost both can be found in my portfolio. Should you wish to read a word of caution, some chapters are difficult to absorb. Reader discretion is advised.
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