If I Could Relive the Past...
If I could go back I wouldn't take his love for granted, because now it's gone. I would cherish all the laughter, smiles, and moments we shared. Absorb everything going on in the moment. Make sure to show how much I loved him every moment I could. Breathe in his fragrant smelling conditioner and run my fingers through his hair. Spend my nights talking to him about life and death and everything in between. Unfortunately now these things are only memories of the past, but it reminds me to cherish the moments I have now with loved ones and make the most out of the relationships I have.
Poor Wolf
My biology teacher used to boast how he was a biologist, not a teacher.
This basically meant he didn't have a teaching certificate/degree, just a biology degree which he chose to grace our little brains with each week.
If you took his advanced Anatomy class in junior year, your main project would be disecting a frog. Nobody wanted to disect a frog, so only the students who really wanted to continue in the sciences ever took that class. However the shared lab room would still reek of formaldehyde every day.
Our biology teacher had a soft spot for wolves. His classroom had several posters, many advertising non profit organizations and conservation societies that focused on keeping wild wolves and their territories alive. Given he was a large, bushy-bearded fellow many kids chalked this up to some macho, "lone wolf" mentality that many people romanticize. However one day, some poor dumb teenager made the mistake of saying that out loud.
"Wolves aren't 'lone' anything," he quickly corrected them. "They hunt in packs. That's how they survive. If a wolf loses its pack, it's often a death sentence for them."
"So they just gang up on their prey like bullies?" Let it never be said that idiocy keeps quiet.
"What, you feel bad for their prey?" The planned lecture died now. The tangent was taken.
"Have you ever been kicked by a deer? Anyone?" Our teacher glared us down from behind grey whiskers.
"Deer kicks are lethal. If a deer kicks you, and hits the right spot, it will not only break your limbs it can crack your skull or cause internal damages you won't heal from. Male deer antlers can also cause major damage." He proceeded to go on a tirade about the mechanics of powerful leg muscles in herbivores, pointing out how they achieved optimal survival by evolving as strong defense tanks.
"Now, imagine the only way you can live is to eat one of those. Take it out, without dying. And imagine you're smaller - nowhere near the same size or height. And while this deer can eat lots of easy to reach foliage and get its calorie requirements for the day, your wolf gut might be running on say half a tank or less - and if you don't succeed, you die. Does that sound like the bully now? Wolves don't take out whole herds of deer. They have to cooperate to take out one at a time." He shook his head again. "Humans are the only ones who hunt more than they need to survive."
"Don't push your human characteristics on natural animals. They've evolved to fill a set niche, and that niche isn't always the easiest one to fill."
I don't remember the actual lesson for that day, but this one stuck with me for the rest of my life.
People Watcher
Lily was there again. She was back there in the same seat watching people come and go. Getting there required a 30-minute drive and she had nothing to buy, but that didn’t stop her from coming. When books and television weren’t enough she sought out other people’s stories. She sits quietly in the busy mall, sometimes nursing a beverage other times pretending to listen to music. She does whatever she can to look inconspicuous, to blend into the scene. Luckily for her, it isn’t too difficult. Her younger sister is an art prodigy, her older sister is married with kids and her best friend is at Yale studying mathematics. They all have some type of gold star to show for their efforts in life. As for her, no one knows. No one cares. Her parents are too busy with their more successful daughters and beside her best friend, no one even calls to check in on her. She doesn’t have a degree or a husband, and her job at the bank isn’t very glamorous. She’s 26 now and at this point in her life, she just wants to settle down. She’s never been great in the love department like her older sister, but she’s always loved kids. Her future right now is as uncertain as it ever was, but that doesn’t matter here. Here, among the busy crowds, she listens and observes. She takes note of the body language, conversations, and shopping bags. For a few hours, she allows herself to ignore her own life and pay attention to the more interesting people around her.
Right now, she is focused on a pregnant woman carrying two large H&M bags. Economical. She’s talking to a man. Her husband? No neither of them are wearing rings. Her partner? No, that’s not the case the body language is wrong. They seem friendly, but they are careful around each other, guarded. Ex-Lover Lily notes. The woman is clearly exhausted, she walks with an arched back and her hands are pressed into her sides. After waddling for a little bit, she finds her way over to a table and takes a seat, letting out an audible sigh as shifts her weight onto the chair. Lily is no stranger to pregnancy. At one point she wanted to become an obstetrician, but she quit on that dream long ago. She also helped her older sister throughout her two pregnancies. At 32, the woman has 3 kids: a daughter, and twin boys. Lily herself is not that lucky. She hugs her stomach and tries to imagine what the woman sitting across from her must be feeling. Obviously uncomfortable, but perhaps excited. She clutches her stomach a little tighter imagining what it must feel like to hold a human inside you then all of a sudden let’s go. She remembers what caused her downward spiral, why she dropped out of college. She won’t be able to ever feel the joys of pregnancy like her sister and the woman in front of her. She remembers what the doctor told her. No matter how much she wishes otherwise, she is barren.
Listen for My Sob
My agony is a gaping hole no one can see
Freedom is a foreign thing denied to me
Each night brings the same repeated hell
As I wander my house at the midnight knell
Who are these strange people living here?
They ignore me, then shiver when I'm near
A hand on the shoulder and they don't react
I can't understand why they don't act
Their cocker spaniel barks until I finally leave
So I play ball with their 4-year-old as a reprieve
He looks in my direction, curious but a bit shy
But he doesn't respond to my gentle lullabye
The pain starts again--a stomach wound that won't heal
No bandage or dressing will help this pain so surreal
A phone call for help gets me only a confsued reply
They can't hear me, no matter how much I try
Someone hurt me long ago - who I can't recall
I really wish I could end it all
But every day will be the same a-gain
Either I'll remember or go insane
Someone, hear my cry please! Put my soul at ease!
Listen for my sob over the soft spring breeze