Fave from Escrita - battles
im missing you @ on
2002-10-21 - 7:17 a.m.
battles
The sun hit my eyes just perfectly so that I could not see anything in front of me. I walked blindly through the parking lot into the small flea market in my home town. Fortunately, the walk from the parking lot to the building had been a frequent voyage of mine and I never fell on my face or ran into anything.
I just remember that moment, as a special one. I was beside two of my best friends. We were giggling and cracking jokes at each other.
It was early, earlier than any other our age would be willing to crawl out of bed.
We always enjoy garage sales, thrift shops and flea markets. Partly because of the cheap deals. Partly because of the relationships we have made and continue to make "in the business".
That particular Saturday, there was an RV parked just at the end of the building. We made our way over, greeted by a tall old man with a wrinkled face, bushy eyebrows and a nose with a heart-warming personality of its' own. We also were given a special welcome by his friend in a tye-dyed shirt resembling that of a hippie in the early seventies and two of his "guard dogs", one part beagle-part something or another and the other a full blooded American bulldog.
We carried the typical small town conversation. We discussed our families and their connections to the regular town whatevers. I think, after about an hour my friends and I were getting annoyed by this as we had a few more stops to make before it got well into the morning. We continuted to attempt our way out of the door as nicely as possible.
Just as we were soon out, the beagle-slash-unknown came up to me and jumped on my leg. I leaned down to pet it and it was as if such was meant to be.
My friends had somehow found a way to dart out of the building, going unnoticed and I was stuck there petting the dog and watching Maury Povich reruns with the old man and his hippie entreprenuer.
This is when this old man, whom I later figured his name was George gave me admonition that no one else in this world could have been capable of. He looked me in the eye, walked closer to my face as if nothing else could fit between us and he said "You are fighting two of the hardest battles you will ever fight right now,". I looked into him with a questioning expression and he said, "you will conquer them both."
He continued to explain to me things that I had never admitted. He told me that the very people in this world of which should understand me and trust me and believe in me, don't. He told me that they do not know me and as much as they can attempt to get to know me, they won't be capable of it because they are looking for the wrong things. They are looking for a heathen...of hate and doom and things unmentionable. Hate is exactly opposite of what they will find.
He spoke of things that have never been revealed to a singly sole in my life. Things of which I have kept hidden. Things that have probably had much to do with my twisted heart and mind.
I walked away from George, I know with a look of confusion and mystery in my eyes. But, he knew that I understood him, he knew that I knew exactly what he was talking about. That confusion and mystery was barely skin deep.
Because of him, I now know that I will indeed conquer those two seemingly incorrigible battles.
And that keeps me going.