FAR FROM PERFECT

Its probably not going to be a popular opinion, but as I sat at the Gastroenterologist office last week studying the diagram of the human digestive system I couldn’t help but think God could have come up with something a little more simple, a little more elegant, especially considering some of the symptoms I was experiencing.
What a mess.

Where Do It go?

When I was in the hospital last year they weren't going to let me leave unless I had a bowel movement. I kept telling them I hadn't eaten in 3 days there was just nothing there. They insisted there had to be something.

I said "You know, I can eat a footlong Subway sandwich and I only get an inch and a half out. I don't know where it goes. I can't explain it, but if you don't let me eat something I will be here forever. Until the end of time."
So they gave me a cup of broth and an enema.
21st century medicine.

We Do Recover

I made something for my daughter for a birthday present in 2002. It was a horse head, fashioned with colored grout glued to a piece of travertine. Before you go thinking what a sweet thing to do, you should know that the reason I made it was because I had no money, no job, no visible means of support. I was down, down to the dirt man. Deep in my addiction, I didn’t have two thin dimes to rub together to buy her a birthday present. So I made this stupid horse. It looked like a third grade art project. And though I felt a lot of shame giving her this gift, it was all I could do. I’m not sure what they call it when you pretend to not be ashamed, but what ever it is, that was me. I don’t recall if Aubree liked it, or thought it was dumb, or if she was delighted. I really don’t know.

So fast forward 21 years and her step dad calls me and says he has a box of stuff I might be interested in. And among several items that darn travertine horse head was in there.
The strangeness of this life sometimes cant be measured. I can hardly describe or explain the gratitude I felt to see this thing. And all that shame from all those years ago had faded away and left a wonderful sense of humility.

So I called Aubree and asked it she remembered this horse head. She kinda did. I told her how it looked like third grade art project and we laughed, and I sent her a picture of it.
“Yes, I DO remember” she said “And dad, its really not that bad. You can tell it’s a horse.”
She is very kind. And she kept it.
I plan to hang it on my wall somehow. Its like a prize, a trophy, a badge.
A crown of thorns.
We Do Recover

Raymond Carver

 

Woke up early this morning and from my bed
looked far across the Strait to see
a small boat moving through the choppy water,
a single running light on. Remembered
my friend who used to shout
his dead wife’s name from hilltops
around Perugia. Who set a plate
for her at his simple table long after
she was gone. And opened the windows
so she could have fresh air. Such display
I found embarrassing. So did his other
friends. I couldn’t see it.
Not until this morning.”
― Raymond Carver, All of Us: The Collected Poems