Turnings

Every day, every moment, the universe changes. Usually slowly, subtly. Time and again suddenly, violently. So in our lives sometimes we notice, other times not, those gradations from one reality to another, or jerking shifts that awaken us with a start.

My childhood is full of the latter, mostly in a sad, frightening and disappointing way. They stay with me, but my reality shook constantly, then, hard to differentiate startling revelations from normal growth spurts. The death of Santa and the empty stockings, or my father's threats, or being told "Who asked you" by older children at the corner when I was five and I offered my opinion.

When I was perhaps 20, sat by a dark, snowy lake, late, solitary, and befriended the blackness, and my fear. At 26, alone, surrounded by strangers in barracks, and learned that Everything I Know is Wrong. The slow turning of a huge freighter in mid ocean, from a life with chaos to one of peace. A disbelieved I Love You wrapped in a first kiss. A disownment embraced, then enforced, along with the renunciation of one name and rooting of another. A glimpse at the unwelcome but not unpleasant face of death. Informed I had a lovely smile, and suddenly knew how useful that could be. A letting go, and a coming home. Facing a chattering demon, knowing I was a silent demon in return.


Ah, I say. I swallow it down, puzzle it out, sort it through.

Aha.