A Whirlwind of a Weekend
I suppose like life itself Cervantino brings not only joy, as the opposite lingers not too far behind. Gabby dropped something in street, which is safe to say she wishes she had forgotten. She stepped off the edge of security, released, bent down, and turned up a deer in headlights, frozen in trance, time only for processing, enough to close her eyes and remember as impact was driven into her memory. How her face felt briefly pressed against glass, how her legs fell limp, and the sound of tires creating distance. She awoke in a puddle, pale, blue, and cold, like she exited a freezer from the heavens, preserved, and promptly put back on earth for many reasons. Her face resembles the heart of a saint, shining bright with acceptance of life, thankfulness sparkling in her eyes, the skin on her face a color no one else could consist of.
The man fell from his chair seizing existence, seizing into the arms of a man in the center of Los Lobos, seizing lightly to the ground, seizing for what seemed to be an eternal moment. His hands frozen in time, locked in a shiver, as if trying to grasp light, or air. He was molested in a sense, first the man wanted to remove him from the vicinity. I quickly interrupted, "No puedes hacer nada!" Shortly after a man who worked there approached easily placing a spoon in his mouth, followed by a cloth dampened with alcohol under his nose. I felt for the victim as the taste of cold metal and fumes penetrated his brain. He could not resist either of the two and he shook as if his blood was bound by hypothermia. I could see the desire to fight in the depths of his eyes. He lay like a freshly branded calf, tired, tied, pinned by pain, forcibly receiving that of which at any other moment he would have rejected with a swift kick. His ears may as well have been notched with a knife and tagged with a red flag, as if his freedom hadn't been constrained enough from the reality of epilepsy. However, like the calf, he awoke from his disfunctional state, walked through the doors out into life collected and content.
Yesterday I spoke with a man who is very dear to my heart. The first time we have truly spoken in three years. Unfortunately the words, like the majority of the time these days, were electronic. He spoke from a place only those who have lived it could be able to perceive. He spoke from a place where buildings and vehicles create graveyards and any moment could be the last. I finally understood the difference between supporting the troops and supporting the war on a higher level. I finally understood what the army does to man, as he said he was prepared to die. Tears came to my eyes and I couldn't resist, the complete opposite of the resistance that flows through his veins. The sealed emotion that is locked somewhere deep inside him. I don't pray to Jesus Christ, but I pray for him to wield celestial armor in which he cannot be harmed. I wait for him to return from a place where possibilities are mortars, strong, frequent, and unexpected on a level that is beyond comprehension. I am terrified, proud, worried, and inspired...the first time I can truly say, "caught in a whirlwind of emotion."