Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The train we were on got stuck today on the way to the city. It wasn't for too long, only a few minutes of standing, in a dark tunnel under the east river, waiting for a train ahead to move or something. After that it went on slower, until we were off the train.
I could feel myself not being able to breath, I know the air in the train would last a while, I know that really, the people stuck on the train aren't all going to suffocate and die, I know the train is just about to move, in a minute or two, but I just couldn't breath, I was sweating like crazy. Ned kept telling me that i'm allright and that we'll move in just a sec, and that I'm not alone. But non of it helped.
It's the book I'm reading now, in which a soldier get buried alive, it's Beau's funeral, viewing his body and knowing he can't breath, seeing the glistening glue the funeral home pasted his lips with, it's Gilad Shalit, in a smiling frame from that video tape from last week in the news sites, the tape I wouldn't watch cause the photo was bad enough. It's Ned's dad having to do more radiation because the tumor is not as dormant as the oncologist hoped. It's a phone call from my father telling me my sister's boyfriend is in the hospital.
Walking back home, from the city, still shaken, I'm looking at my owl tattoos, we got those in February, knowing that this year is going to be dark and difficult, and wanting a protective presence in our life. I'm thinking "the year of death is almost over" and I'm counting the months and trying to anticipate if by my langauge of symobls, it should end after a year from getting the tattoo, by new years or by Halloween.