Just beyond the silhouettes that dark the sun

I have been obsessed with the graphic novel series Strangers in Paradise for the last few weeks. Once in a while I'll read a passage from a novel and immediately know that I'll always remember where I was the first time I read it. I just know that it will always mean something to me. I think it was Kurt Vonnegut who spoke of the miracle that is reading something so powerful it makes you feel grateful to be alive, no matter what else is going on in your life or the world. That's exactly how I felt when I read this:

When I was thirteen I watched a classmate die on the concrete beside a school bus. In the noise and play of pushing children the little boy had been thrust before the approaching bus and run over. Waiting for the ambulance, we stood around him like a wall of life and watched him die.

At first he groaned and couldn’t move, his eyes shut tight. But as the crowd recalled the horrific moment again and again from various points of view, the boy grew silent. He opened his eyes and looked beyond our silhouettes to watch the sun with a peaceful calm. Then I realized he no longer saw the sky or felt the autumn breeze, nor did he feel any pain or hear the sound of teachers crying.

I don’t know what fabric lies beneath the life we live, but on the other side of our mortal pain is a place of sanctuary. I know because I stood beside a little boy and watched him find it once.

Years later I held Emma’s hand until she found sanctuary in the snow falling outside her window. Then I found it in the backseat of a speeding police car, under Francine’s tears.

I guess that’s why I came back. There’s something more important than the work we do and the roles we play. There’s something more than how we move or where. There’s something about who we touch and why, and it matters more than we can understand or perhaps remember.

So it doesn’t matter what happened or what was said that awful summer ten years before, if Francine needs me I’ll be here for her. To hold her hand and let her know she’s not alone. I owe her that much, don’t you see? In her eyes I found sanctuary. And now, when life is shadows in the sun, Francine looks for it, too. But isn’t it ironic she looks to me for something I saw in her all along?

I don’t know, maybe sanctuary isn’t really found in the sun or snow or a loved one’s tears. Maybe, when the moment’s right these things merely catch a reflection of our own soul and remind us of who we really are and that home is never all that far away – just beyond the silhouettes that dark the sun.

I'm back

I opened my old blog by accident tonight and ended up skimming some of the entries. It was a weird experience due to the fact that I can hardly recognize the person who wrote all of the early entries and even some of the ones near the end. I had strong opinions on topics that I knew nothing about. I had no idea how I fit into the world. I didn't know that life had yet to truly beat the shit out of me or that finally, in my 20th year I would find happiness. I can find very few similarities with myself now and the person I was five years ago. But I still think this picture is fucking awesome.

More posts to follow soon.

Come back

I saw this posted on a blog I read and I thought it was beautiful. And true.

Just this feeling when you part ways with people you care about, people you love. "Get home safe." "Take care." "Be good." Go back out into the world away from me, and come back to me soon and in one piece. Come back with fun stories, and let's make some fun stories of our own. Come back with a tan, come back with a new job or a new adventure or your hair different. Just come back at some point.
Come back.