10.24.08

The Kiddo has been on my mind continuously today.  that's unusual.  not saying that i don't think about him daily, as i do, but this is different.

while slacking at work today, taking silly self portraits with my phone, i captured an expression of myself that the Kiddo shares, one i've seen in pictures.  i pulled a now-three-year-old picture of him and made a diptych with the photo of myself i'd just taken.  it's eerie.

as i sat there, staring at some strong genetics, i had what can only be described as "emotional memory", rather like "sense memory".  i felt incredibly empty, hollow.  like the day i left the hospital.

the last hour before discharge was eternal.  i was tired of paperwork, tired of people being "nice", tired of my mother rambling at me, trying to keep my mind occupied with something other than what we were doing.  it was overcast & cold, i sat at my window and watched people down on the street scuttle to the pizzeria on the corner.

we left the hospital before Betty, Barney & the Kiddo.  after the goodbyes, during which i desperately sputtered inanities and alternately cried, i had to follow the yellow arrows to billing & insurance, which was overwhelming.  finally through 1/2 an hour later, i sat in the wheelchair by the curb, waiting for my mother to pull her car around, even though i was perfectly capable of walking, and would have preferred to do so.  while i watched her cross the parking lot, i wondered how i looked to passersby on the street.  there were no balloons, no flowers.  just a sad, 25 year old woman with horribly chapped lips.  

at that moment, i knew what Ultimate Loneliness felt like.  my head was equal parts cranked to eleven & silent as a tomb.  this was something i had done, the first time i ever really saw my impact on someone else.  i suppose i believed that i never left fingerprints anywhere, on anything previously.  "what did you do?" my heart chanted.

during the 1/2 mile ride back to my apartment, my mother prattled on and i stared out the window at the office workers on lunch break, stomping through the slush, laughing as they opened doors to warm restaurants.  i felt like i'd never laugh again, that i'd never be that free, that maybe i didn't deserve that uninhibited joy.  

i miss the Kiddo.  i've never seen those expressions in person, or caught them with my own camera.  these half smiles are always to someone else: a family member, a friend.  i  wish we knew each other better, he & i.