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Symposium: Normal
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Symposium: Normal When you’re growing up, it’s hard to tell if what you’re feeling is what everyone else is feeling or if it’s just particular to you, harder still to ask that question that might set you apart from the rest since it seems your very life depends on being part of the herd. By the time you reach about 10 the feelings are flying out of your skin, your head is so full it’s ready to pop off. You really could fly if only your body remembered how. The feeling of things is forever etched in your soul from those days. Walking home on a mid winter’s night with the cold so achingly deep that my breath hurt in my chest, I climbed the last hill to my house. A car pulled alongside of me, the window lowered and a man who could have been my father motioned for me to come closer. He smiled so I smiled. He said, could you help me? I nodded, shifting the bag of books to my other shoulder so I could lean in closer to hear his words. He twisted, popped the button. “It’s cold, want to sit?” I shook my head no. He asked if I knew where Park Avenue was, the map he had on his lap shifted. I started to point, he was so close to where he needed to be. As I lifted my arm, he pulled it. The map fell to the floor. His pants were open. I stared, not moving. He pulled my arm, hard. I could feel the warmth from the heater in the car wafting out the window on the side of my face as I stared. I smelled the mint of his breath. I heard my intake of air. I saw the cigarette butts in the ashtray. But oddly I did not hear or see Rosemarie. Rosemarie, who came up behind me, stuck her head in the window, screamed, pulled me back, hands tight around my belly until we fell to the ground. Rosemarie, I’ve spoken of her here before. She who collected money for the church, she came to our house every week. She would stay and talk with my mom for a good hour each time. She knew everyone in our neighborhood. We all knew her. The car disappeared itself as I stared at her. She was wiping snow off me with her hat, while she sang mary had a little lamb. She walked me to home. She patted me gentle, gentle. The whole way. She was the one who told my mama while standing with her arms wrapped around me. Later mama scrubbed me clean and new, fixed my scratches. Da and Rosemarie sat with the police. mama took my sister and me into bed. My sister fell asleep. I waited for Da. He pulled me up into his lap like a wee one. He said he was sorry for the ugly in the world, but it was there, nothing could change that. Just like nothing could change the good, like Rosemarie. I said, “the all say she isn’t normal Da. What is she?” He shook his head a little, “tonight Mib, she was your angel and she fought that devil back to hell.” I don’t remember falling asleep but every time I woke up, Da was right there. I remember that. Normal never seemed like it was something I had to be after that. You cannot conceive the many without the one. |
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i didn't put a picture with this. couldn't for the life of me figure out what picture would make sense. if i had a picture of my little house, maybe that? it felt like "safe" that night but then so did Rosemarie. what a wonderful neighbor she was. . You cannot conceive the many without the one.
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She was indeed your Guardian Angel  Visit my Blog Older but no Wiser and find out more
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Happy Symposium. Yes, this story illustrates those moments, doesn't it, sis? kk The observant make the best lovers, I may not do right, but I do write, I have bliss, joy, and happiness in my life, Kitkat Come check out my blog KItkat1415 check out this post by me Adventures In Body Grooming #39 April Topic Link: What Lies Beneath If April Showers Oh Bloody Hell What Kind Of Weather Turns Me On Bloggers Symposium 40
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A great contribution to the symposium. No need to add a pic. The words clearly show a picture. She true was a beautiful angel hugs V Become a blog watcher sweet_vm
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Perfectly written, and perfectly normal. This needs no illustration! Thank You PS I linked it to the group (Virtual Symposium Group) use Virtual Symposium Group
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Yes, who we consider strange may just be an overly sweet person. Sadly, in this world, that ISN'T very normal.  Wonderful story. . it shows us we have to look "deeper". 
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8/4/2017 6:47 am |
A perfect example of what is not normal and should never be considered normal and what is not normal and should always be considered normal.
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In their normal lives, many children are experiencing abnormal things, fortunately that sometimes somewhat bizarre people help them.Provided these people are very numerous and are the norm. Sommaire Et la souffrance vgtale L'être idéal ? Un ange dévasté par l'humour. E.M. Cioran
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That's one scary experience you had and thankfully Rosemarie was around to rescue you. Normal doesn't matter now we're adults. 
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What a very scary thing that could of happened to you, thank god for Rosemarie, I am so glad she showed up to save you. Thank you so much for sharing this story with us, it was a great read.. Seduce the mind and see what a wonderful adventure the body will take you on.. 
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Fortunately, your Angel was there. I wasn't much concerned about being normal. In fact, I was quite aware of being different. My problem was in assuming that people understood things the way I did or saw what I saw when they seldom did. Vive La Difference
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That's a terrifying story and you told it quite well. Thank you for sharing it and for being such a great writer. My featured post this week: Pulling Fantasy Sex Out of My Ass.
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Dare I say a horrible story beautifully told. What happened to Rosemarie after that?
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