Skip to main content

Alive


                I fought with the napkin dispenser as I waited for my order to be ready. He must have seen me struggling and came up behind me. He pushed the napkin holder and with a swift of his hand he took out a stack of them.

                “Here” he said. With my back still to him I felt my heart sink. I recognized that voice. It took only one word. But I knew it well. And when I turned around and the scent of his cologne caught my nose I was embraced by the past.
                “Hey you”. I acted surprised, he didn’t know how good I’d gotten at lying.
                “Hey Miriam, how have you been?” he said.

                “Great, and you? How’s your family? Your niece?..” I stopped myself. And just grinned I was nervous for no apparent reason. Other than I always felt as a fool when I stood infront of him.
                He began to tell me about his family, and work. We even took to a stool to wait for both our drinks. I knew there was a lot of catching up to do. But I wasn’t paying attention to the dialogue. I was staring at him. My first love. The man whose heart I’d broken. And the one I paid my dues for. His eyes were gleaming, and he seemed happy. His spirit was light while mine weighed heavy. But I smiled and I pushed through.

                “Mango- a- gogo with wheatgrass for Miriam” the employee interrupted.

                “Guess that’s me”. I went up to the counter and picked up my drink. I sat it down on the table we were talking and began saying goodbye. Something about being late, and having to get somewhere. He stood up and for the first time in years gave me a hug. A real hug. Not a “Good to see you” one arm hug. But an embrace, an “I care for you regardless” embrace.

                I cringed in those few seconds. I’d been so long since anyone had hugged me. Really hugged me. It felt awkward an unfamiliar. And yet warm and inviting. I batted my eye lashes and gave him one last smile before walking out of the store. He didn’t have to know how wounding that embrace had been.

                I got to my car. And I sat in the driver seat not going anywhere for a while. I just busted into tears. I’ve been feeling so lonely these days. So out of touch with the world. That when somebody touched me it nearly broke my heart. It could have been anyone. Anyone could have hugged me that day and it would have had the same effect.

                That type of loneliness should be illegal. There was deep melancholy sorrow pouring out of me. It made it painful to breathe, to think. I’d been sweeping everything under a rug for the past weeks that it had all finally caught up to me. And all it took was one hug.

                Have you ever walked into a room and not felt physically alive, till someone touched you or said your name? I feel like that often these days. Like a dusty arm chair in the corner of a crowded room.

                That night as I laid in bed I realized one undeniable truth. I felt terribly alone. Left to fend for myself, I wasn’t doing a good job. I was muddling through. Moving but getting nowhere. I closed my eyes. What I wanted more in the world was to be wrapped in someone’s arms. To hear the beating heart beat of another. To feel wanted. And needed. Because maybe then I’d believe I was still alive.

Comments

Gerson Giron said…
I love your writing, it feels like im there watching you while it happens. I feel like that sometimes. I'll get a thrill from hiking up a mountain and getting to the top and it feels like i just claimed that peak. And once im done taking it all in I realize left the door open, lol, jk, no but i realize that i get an 80% acomplishment feeling when im up there by myself, itll be 100% when im holding somebodys hand up there. Miss you.
Miriam Soltero said…
Well I'm glad your doing well and happy. Climb as many mountains as you can. That many miles lead you to greater paths. That life is always good to you. Wishing I was there with you. Undeniably. But miles away I take you with me wherever I may go. Love you,
Mimi

Popular posts from this blog

Love never returns void

Many years ago I wrote a piece on a dear friend of mine. At the time her story unraveled with a heartbreaking ending. But if anything remains true from that story is that she is and will continue to be the eternal optimistic… who always, always believes in love. She paced back and forth, looking at the door and back at her watch every few minutes. She was nervous and her hands were sweating. Finally to catch a breath she sits down and lets out a deep sigh. And she closes her eyes. It’s surreal to her how years ago this was the exact same spot she last saw him. Where he promised he loved her and that love was everlasting. The last place before their story crashed and unraveled. She never thought shed be back here again after the way it ended. Years had passed and life and time had taken their toll on their story. One she thought was signed and sealed, shelved on a book case and had become dusty with time. She got up at the sound of the announcer saying the flight had arrived. She l...

The way we were

I think Barbara Streisand said it best. “Memories may be beautiful and yet what’s too painful to remember we simply choose to forget. So it’s the laughter we will remember, whenever we remember… the way we were” I’m sure that’s the way I’d like my autobiography to be written like. Or anyone else’s. Just the good times. The scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind . But if it were so, then wouldn’t big chunks of our plots be missing, making it impossible to just understand why anyone could ever be just happy? In truth, how can you recognize happiness if you’ve never cringed with sorrow? My life comes in volumes. Some I’d sell to Hollywood, some awfully wretched, but nevertheless never, ever, uneventful. My friend and I have this discussion often. I say that everything happens for a reason. She says “Some things should just never happen, they should be completely avoided.” And sure, I’m a sap for a happy ending. But what is an ending without the tale? Last weekend, whi...

Jimmy Choos, Prada, Manolo Blahinks, Oh and men too!

So there I was surrounded by Jimmy Choo sandals, Prada sling backs, Manolo Blahink satin pumps, and in the middle of a fashion blank. As I walked browsing, the sales clerk asked me "what kind of shoes are you looking for?" "Something special" I said. "Arent we all" she says and then proceeded to laugh hysterically. It is normal to pick up the wrong type of shoes every now and then, so I carefully browsed and I began to think about the analogy between men and shoes. Some shoes are drop dead gorgeous. But you have to pay a high ticket for. Then there are the "all that glitters isn't gold shoes". Those completely stricking stilettos that look absolutely fabulous, but after being worn for no more than an hour begin to cause unnecessary pain. There are the shoes you've worn out; ready to be thrown out, but for some reason or another you cannot part with. The shoes that make you feel secure, that you can step over anything and not fall. The ug...