You wouldn’t recognize me now if you knew me before. You’d know what I meant if you’d been here yesterday, when my sister came to visit. Seven years older than me she is, though you wouldn’t know it now for looking, no, not now. Only on the outside though, I must say, for inside it’s another matter entirely, I’m sure of it. Inside, I feel blessed to still even be here. Blessed, or just plain lucky, call it what you will, depending on your point of view, where you’re sitting, or how close you come to look into my eyes. And look, you should really look, because unlike some people I can’t hide behind my eyes. I’m as naked as a newborn. So look, see the gratitude. Of course you can see the sadness too, but that’s to be expected. Anything less and I wouldn’t be human. I wouldn’t be talking to you, I wouldn’t be telling you what I saw. The tremendous rattling, the tremendous shaking, like the land itself was trying to shake me awake. And tears, yes, they’re also to be expected. Infrequent, irregular tears. I stared at Tara’s shoes while she stroked my fingers. We didn’t say much but it was good for our skin to touch again. The shoes looked as if they’d been recently stitched. Maybe she’d just been to a cobbler. My eyes travelled over the red leather while her fingers travelled my fingers, rubbing my nails, my knuckles, massaging my joints, as pictures of stitches, welts and woe, circled the edge of my vision, that up till then was cushioned in codeine, and doing its utmost to deter further infiltration. But they inhibit wholeness, these types of medicines, and I won’t be taking them anymore. Tea will do. Tea will do fine. Trying to push down all those sights and sounds is not an option. Let them rush all over me. If that's what they want. Let them lick me clean. If the actual attack couldn’t kill me, then how could the memories? So I will sit here and wait and see it through. Tally my scars, or connect them in my mind like a dot to dot puzzle, and go on from there.
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