Our own Guardian Angel

What if nobody ever tells you who you are, other than a name, just a name, slap anybody’s face on it. What if nobody tells you where you live, because it is all too obvious where you live. What if nobody ever tells you that life could be any different than how it already is. What if nobody ever tells you there is a world out there waiting to be discovered, you know nothing about. What if nobody ever tells you anything other than you need to do what you are told, or you will be punished!

What if nobody ever tells you that you have a choice, then you have no choice. What if nobody ever tells you that you can ask for help, so you never ask for help, if nobody ever offers you help. What if nobody ever tells you there is a God, then there is no God. If nobody ever teaches you any prayers, there are no prayers. If nobody ever tells you any fairy-tales, there are no happy endings. If nobody ever tells you anything other than what to expect if you don’t do what you are told, So you learn to expect. You live and you learn what to expect. And if nobody ever tells you why, because it is all too obvious such thoughts should never cross your mind.

If they did, she no longer remembered. Or if she did, she was choosing to forget. She was no longer a girl. She was a woman. She was an old woman. Losing her mind. Undoubtedly dying. Nobody needed to tell her that, it was all too obvious. The bullet embedded in her breast, so close to her heart she could taste the metal poisoning her blood. The corset of pain and strain gripping her chest. Her breath coming in short bursts. In between which she knew she was undoubtedly dying. Though not yet ready to give up her ghost, she fought for those short bursts of breath. Braced her back against the wicker-chair. Outside on the porch, overlooking the beach, silent and secret as a grave. Beyond the beach, over the horizon. Her future vanishing so far beyond her past. Another world, another time, another place she had never been,

She had done everything by the book she had never read. If nobody ever teaches you how to read. She had nothing to apologize for. Nothing had been her fault. Her choice. Take choice away from a child so often and so thoroughly it loses its’ meaning. Life becomes a series of yieldings to forces beyond your control or understanding why anything should need to be so obvious. Out of sight out of mind…

She had often been told she was out of her mind. And the thought might have made her smile, had she not long since resisted any humor in her condition. Her laugh had never been a laughing matter. By the time she might have considered life a comedy, her capacity to join in the fun had been soundly beaten and drained out of her. To laugh or even smile about it now would be the greatest insult and injury she could inflict on herself. It was a miracle she had survived at all. Miracle enough to cling to, providing the passion if not the faith to live by. Or die by, without regret. No choice in that, she would surely be a lost soul doomed damned forever. When you have come so close to your own end, you finally realize how little you always had to lose. And she would be the judge of that. Anything else but impure vanity. She owed herself that much. The world owed her that much. She had been punished enough. Finally, her own guiding light. Her own guardian angel.

The night had drifted into dawn. With no visible signs of any fuss and bother. The sun not yet broken through the clouds, but undoubtedly behind the scenes orchestrating the delivery of a new day. The sky opening up, like a new-born’s first breath, before any struggling cries to maintain a heartbeat in a world not yet recognized it had a choice. Or no choice at all. Dull, cloudy, a light drizzle. The waters flat and calm, but for the curls of white foam animating its’ fringes. The sandy graveyard far from golden. A drab, unvarnished tan. But for those apparently random patches of seaweed glistening, shiny from their most recent rinse. Her beautiful boy was inside, making coffee, The old woman remained outside, alone, alive, at least for the moment. They both knew she wanted it like this. Remove the bullet, you would have to rip her heart and soul out first!

Luke Bellwood