Posted by: canaryinacoalmine | April 15, 2008

loud mouthed muffled

It’s often been said a person finds their voice at times when you least expect it; what happens when the loud voice is stolen in a moment of need?  The silent waif of a child violently defends his sister as they walk home from school.  He uses force that surprises himself catching the attacker by surprise.  The great public speaker squeaks like a mouse when not in front of a pulpit.  The literary playwright and activist becomes mute when violently attacked.  Her usual strong boisterous voice is lost as she disassociates from her body feeling the torment and anguish with each heavy blow while unable to move.  It is not her, but her body…a vehicle, really, to cast off her thoughts and ideas.

 

 Why do moments of extremes cause some to become paralyzed while others are able to draw upon strength they didn’t know existed?  Does something change within the psyche enabling one to speak when they are normally mute?  What changes when the loud mouthed girl suddenly loses her voice and how does one go about finding it again?  These two conditions are completely different yet uniquely the same.

 

Realizing the answer to this question is probably one that will remain a mystery to myself and others for years to come…childhood long years that stretch an eternity.  Saturday night I was nearly brought to my knees and left speechless by three words, “Hi Jess, this is Em,” we sat on the phone allowing our cries to cancel each other out.  After all, hadn’t we grown up together side by side in multiple states? Indeed we did. And wait.  Another call came through, “Hi it’s Car.”

 

“You’re not allowed to make me cry, Emmy already did,” I said and then broke down again.

 

 There comes a time when you have to forgive and let go of the storm cloud swirling above your head. You have to swallow your pride, admit you were wrong and stuff it all back inside.  Because let’s face it, not having them in my life made my voice trip through my vocal chords creating the effect of a binge drinker who chain smokes and calls everyone Darlin.

 

Now that their back around I feel a sense of strength as though my voice has steadiness to it that’s been missing for quite some time.

 

I am blessed.

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Responses

  1. But what happened? Surely this was more than crying over spilled beer!

    You always leave me hangin’ here, girlie.


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