Monday, July 15, 2019

Going Higher

July 15 ::
Today there was a hearing, called by the judge, to decide whether or not to allow the defense to subpoena my phone records. The DA told me I could "object," so I did, and so... it went to hearing.

She sat across from me. The drunkladydriver. She didn't know me. I recognized her, for sure. A court building is a very sad place. That's what I learned. I saw men in chain cuffs, and women crying for their sons, I saw a woman with an ankle bracelet, and a very large party of friends and family with buttons and photo albums. The buttons were a photograph of a young woman, smiling, and everyone was there in her honor, in her memory, looking sad, and determined. I suppose they were there for the sentencing of someone that did something wrong, bad. Most people in the building were in a hurry, or anxious, frustrated, or beleaguered. Everyone looked like they could use a hug. Everyone. The defense attorney whispered in DUI's ear, they both smiled, satisfied with something. And the judge, eventually gave them access to my phone records. They must have been quite pleased, because her attorney has been angling to make me at fault... somehow. I left feeling sad for all the anguish and suffering at the courthouse, and sad for me, because this is all getting drawn out, and ridiculous, and I want to be free. "Next week," the DA explained, "There will be another hearing and the judge will determine whether to proceed with the August 1 trial, where you will testify and be cross-examined." And then we drove home.

I still have nightmares. One thing, really weird... do you ever fall asleep someplace new, like at a relative's, or in a hotel, and when you wake up, it takes a moment to remember where you are? Since the collision, this happens to me every time I wake up. Every time. And for months, it was terrifying. Between the replay nightmares, and waking up next to a stranger, in a place I could not recognize, I didn't want to go to sleep. Even naps, can be hard, waking up panicked, heart racing. I play a lot of solitaire, late into the night.

And... I line my nest with every soft and gentle experience and activity I can, like washing fruit, listening to music, resting on a heating pad, holding my cat, or one of the very ridiculously fluffy pillows I've been gathering. And I sit in the garden. Today, I climbed up into the apricot tree. It's not a very tall tree, but it felt daring, exhilarating. I wanted to be strong, to feel strong, and if I was going to be scared or hurt, I wanted it to be from something real. Does that make sense?

This tree is so full, but all the low fruit is picked, and I don't want the stuff out of reach to be lost. It felt good reach for the ripe apricots, feeling the rough bark on my arms, hoping I wouldn't slip. It felt like a challenge I could face and overcome, and with a tangible, sweet reward.

Below me, the goats and chickens watched, curious and hopeful. Any pieces I dropped were there's.

The morning was awful, honestly. And waiting for next week isn't great either. And I don't profess to be a Pollyanna, or even to possess some infinite inner strength, resolve... but I love Geoff, and I love William, Alex, Max, and Maria. I love our home, and plans, and the bowls in my kitchen. I love that Geoff says, "Go get a massage," and "Draw some rattys." I can climb an apricot tree, and make refrigerator jam, and play solitaire til 1 am. I don't text and drive, and I wasn't at fault, and when this is over, I will feel a lot better... I hope I will feel a whole lot better.


My Grandmother Eunice once talked to me about running water, and how much she could enjoy it, so that if she was unhappy, or even bored with dishwashing, she only had to think about how much she loved the sound and feel of running water, and it put her at ease, made things a little better. I like running water, but what I love is remembering my Grandmother, and her voice, her gentle self, and that makes things a little better for me.

I think that everyone of us could use more love, more compassion, a hug. I wish that the world could be softer, for each of us.

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