KNOW THYSELF, HEAL THYSELF | MOSAIC MEMOIR
Exit 2
When your stubbornness leaves you empty-handed
I drove past your exit the other day.
The sun was sluggishly setting; unwilling to give up center stage, it melted and spread as it emptied itself into the horizon. Its soft pink reflection seemed to loosen the traffic jam of emotions that builds up within me every time I travel this way.
As I neared the sight of you, I could not bring my hand to flick the blinker, my arms to turn the wheel. My stubborn foot would not release the pressure that always holds my speed as I avoid the off-ramp to you.
Inky fingers of another dark night crept in as the headlights of oncoming cars called out my offenses. The times I dodged your late-night calls, refused to engage with your erratic words, and ignored your cries that came so softly they sometimes tiptoed by.
Someday, I will have the strength to stop. Perhaps when this serrated wound in my heart has signaled the itch to heal, or at the very least has opened wide enough to absorb this blood-soaked guilt.
Maybe then I will pull over by the exit where you died so violently, careening over the median, tearing at the earth, exploding into a time and space without me, without us.
I will wait for you there, where you left me that summer afternoon.
I will be there for you this time, kneeling by that tiny white cross, holding the weight of this collective sin in my empty hands.
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