Sometimes I mean to write about one thing and in the end I realize I’ve been sidestepping the entire time like a rabbit with ADD (that, for some odd reason, knows how to type) so the result is something completely different.
This post’s one of those.
Ladies and gentlemen, your entrée.
It’s not that he broke his vow. There were no vows taken, no rings exchanged. Is a broken promise alone something worth crying over? Does it mean anything at all? If hushed between dusk and dawn, between dinner and dirty dishes, between then and now, without witness.
To some, it doesn’t mean a thing; they just gather (or scatter) their belongings and leave without as much as a good-bye, cracking invisible rings, not breaking vows but breaking nevertheless, breaking only without witness.
If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If the sky falls in your backyard an no one is around to hear it, does it make a difference? The eternal question, ever unanswered.
If children break bones, they say healing is quick. The younger the faster the better. I can’t say that’s true for all that breaks. What if the first time your heart was broken you didn’t even know how to write your name? What if the second time your heart was broken you didn’t even know about heartbreak, but you knew how it felt?
I’ve never broken a bone, sometimes I wish I could go back in time and trade; get a cast, in my favorite color, have people sign it or draw cartoon characters all over my arm or leg; also, everyone’s a lot nicer when they see you’re wearing a cast.
What if there was a cast for all kinds of things that break? What if it came in your favorite color, and people could sign it and draw things all over? What if we treated each other as if each of us had broken something?
Because I’m sure we all have.
If you’re still curious what I wanted to write to begin with, I have to tell you … what are we talking about again? And who are you? What am I doing? I should really start writing lists.