Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Missing Moanie

I can feel him watching me from across the room. It's crowded in here, and there is tension. His eyes bore through the sea of people right to my soul. He wants me. I know it.

I feel awkward and shy. It's been years since I've had this kind of attention. It feels almost invasive. I push my hair away from my face in an attempt to do something. I glance down and pretend I don't see him, but he knows. He knows a lot.

I want to run away from this guy. I don't need him. Or the complications he'll bring with him into my neat and organized life. I want to run. But I just can't escape his goddamn eyes. They are hauntingly beautiful. I am repelled and magnetized all at once. We start to walk towards each other. I have no choice. My soul is leading me to him.

We meet in the middle of the room. I think the room is a gymnasium. Or is it a ballroom? Either way it is where people -- children or adults -- gather for a party. It's crowded. I begin to realize that there was no way I could escape this guy. He knows exactly what he's doing. He does this all the time.

I start to feel an overwhelming sense that perhaps I do know this guy after all. At least he strikes me as viscerally familiar. Like some stranger I had shared an intimate moment with when I thought the world was big. But I can't remember any details about him. Maybe I met him in a dream?

Some piece of me can recognize the telltale odor of his skin and his confident stance. And of course the way I wanted to run but couldn't. I've been here before. Have I heard warnings about this power of his?

"You know, you really should just walk out the door with me. It's no use resisting," he whispers in my ear. I can feel his warm breath on my cheek. I'm not scared as much as I am shocked by his narcissism.

"I have a life you know. I can't just walk away from everything." I am play acting though. He and I both know he has me.

"Then just dance. Dance with me and we'll take it slowly." He has adjusted his tone and his body language to meet me. He knows exactly how to manipulate me. He gently pulls me close and the music is so so sad. I'm going to have to surrender to him. I already know it. I'll be leaving with this stranger and trusting him with my life. I am weeping. There's no telling when I'll be back with my family whom I love with all of my heart. I'm leaving with this man.

We are embracing. He leans in so close and says, as if I hadn't gathered, "My name is Grief. I'll let you go when I'm finished with you. For now, let's just dance."


Vodka Mom said...

wow. I've met grief. We have a close, personal relationship. He's a bastard.

Vodka Mom said...

p.s. i taught fifth grade for ten years. we might be new bff's. Do you drink vodka???

Laggin said...

Wow. Just, wow.

Ms Picket To You said...

oh good god myself.

words. i like words. i don't have any.

i do have cold beers in the fridge and a bigger than it looks shoulder.

justlori2day said...

I am speechless. That was profound, and sad and beautiful and sad and profound and I am stumbling to upright myself.

I have been dancing with this man for almost 7 years now. Sometimes he lets someone else cut in, but he always hovers off in the shadows.

This is just so amazing that I may have to link to it if that is ok (you know, since I have been in a "all about my sadness and reminding myself that in two weeks it will be 7 years - a different loss, but the same still).

I get your comment on my post - I really get it. I am glad you posted it.

Maggie, Dammit said...


I can see you haven't been blogging long, but there's so much here already. Each of your posts is like a taunting clue. I'm glad I found your ride.

Anonymous said...


For Myself said...

Vodkamom - sorry to hear you've met him too. Let's go drink some vodka and talk behind his back.

Ms. P - Oh you've got words alright. Trust me. You've got words.

Lori - Link away and thank you! Are your feet tired from all that dancing? Mine are and it's only been three years. I'm a newbie.

Maggie - I'm so honored. A comliment from you will float me for a long time.

patty said...

Stunning and evocative. Thank you.

Vodka Mom said...

just checking on ya... I have a nice martini waiting for you...

DCD said...

Also been on that dance floor. And although my first dance was 25 years ago, man that is hard to believe, he and I still go around from time to time.

My thoughts are with you. And I'm heading over to vodka mom's too - I hear she has all the best booze.

Ms Picket To You said...

um friend?

more please.

just saying.

Jen W said...

I.love.this.post. I mean, I'm sad that you are/were on this particular dance floor but the way you wrote about it was just amazing.