static

It began to snow.

“Listen – that soft, tinkling sound – like tiny, crispy shards of glass shattering on the snow.”

“You know what it is?”

“What?”

“That sound…It’s the STATIC being discharged by each snowflake because the air is so dry.”

Blankets

One night, a few weeks ago, when the snow was still above my knees, I walked to the corner store to get something to drink.

On the short walk home, I became so sad that when I got to my house, I had to stop at our front steps. Something was gnawing at me.

I walked around to our backyard and stared, marveling at how alien the landscape looked, white and soft but dead. I spooked the neighbor’s dog who was out for his constitutional in his yard and he began to bark frantically. His mistress popped open the screen door and squinted at me.

“I think I startled him. I’m sorry. I was just taking a look out here.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” she said, apparently mostly sure that I was who she thought I was. I walked back to the front of the house since I figured continuing to just stand in the back yard late at night might concern her.

It was so quiet. The only sound was the whir of a dryer vent somewhere near by, shooting Bounce-scented fumes into the night.

I turned around and looked down toward the main street and decided to lie down. The snow was high enough that I could easily sit without having to go very far. I plopped down and back and spread my arms out.

The sky was too cloudy to see the snowflakes falling from it. Instead, they appeared to materialize out of nothing a few inches above my face, narrowly dodging the steam from my nose.

I closed my eyes and listened and could hear the tinkling of the flakes crashing into one another as they landed, discharging static.

After a few minutes, I got up and went inside, back to my boys.

Perhaps I had felt it coming that night. A few days later, we got the news that the husband’s job, the one that was so perfect, the one that was going to allow us to march forward in life, had fallen through.

This little corner of mine has been quiet because I’ve been so sad. And my sadness has a way of rotting and becoming so ugly. I’ve been so nasty and doing what I can to make anyone who has the audacity to come in contact with me feel at least a little bit as bad as I do.

I know it’s not the end of the world and I know that things will get better someday. But we were right there and we were so cautious to get excited about it until we were sure that it was going to happen. And then when we were sure, or so we thought, we started making plans and getting ideas. Now we’re back where we’ve been. Static. And there’s a lot of sighing going on.

14 Responses to “static”

  1. ozma Says:

    Oh no, oh no. I’m so sorry. So so sorry. This is a beautifully written post. Amazing writing. I wish there’d been a less difficult experience to prompt this elegant and compelling prose.

    I think I told you that I live in fear of my husband losing the job he got. I am constantly bugging him and freaking out. I know about the cautiousness of hope and I have been so afraid to hope. Now I found myself hoping the other day. Maybe I better stop that.

  2. Kizz Says:

    I learned recently that for me it’s worse to have a plan and have it change or fall through than it is to not have a plan at all. I’m so sorry this great thing fell through.
    .-= Kizz´s last blog ..A Thought On Thursday =-.

  3. Sara Says:

    I’m really sorry to hear about your husband’s job, and that you’ve been struggling so much. xo
    .-= Sara´s last blog .. =-.

  4. Karen Sugarpants Says:

    I’m so sorry buddy. I hope things look up very soon. xo

  5. Sweetney Says:

    I love you.
    .-= Sweetney´s last blog ..Elliott Smith, "Between The Bars" =-.

  6. furiousball Says:

    stay warm and strong. i lost my job about 9 months ago and it’s been tough. any thoughts for the hubby to start his own biz? great time to do so
    .-= furiousball´s last blog ..sock puppets and a visit from the Godfather =-.

  7. Snarky Amber Says:

    I love you. This is beautiful, by the way, but I’d rather you were writing artlessly about happy things than writing beautifully poignant posts about sad things.
    .-= Snarky Amber´s last blog ..I Think I’m Done Here. =-.

  8. rimarama Says:

    I’m sorry. And I hope that something infinitely better comes along to replace what didn’t materialize . . .
    .-= rimarama´s last blog ..Fun with Book Club =-.

  9. Jenn Says:

    I am truly sorry to hear that his job fell through. You are an inspiration for sticking with it, day in and day out – don’t let anything get you down.

    While I am very sorry to hear the message, I really enjoyed reading this post. It was written beautifully, and the images were very appropriate.

    Don’t give up. You work too hard and kick too much ass to be down for too long.

  10. Laurie Says:

    I understand that second-to-last paragraph all too well.

    I hope that the better happens very soon.
    .-= Laurie´s last blog ..Pancake Day =-.

  11. jive turkey Says:

    Oh no. Oh shit. I’m so, so sorry.

  12. mouthy_broad Says:

    oh no. i am so sorry.

  13. Andrea from Big Blue Momma Says:

    I am so sorry. I totally understand where you are coming from. I’ve walked this walk more times recently than I care to think about.
    .-= Andrea from Big Blue Momma´s last blog ..Staying Positive =-.

  14. Lisa Says:

    I am a NURSE and still have always had that panicked feeling when it was immenent that my kids were going to be sick. Actual panic attacks occurred. My heart would race whenever I thought about it. They are now 19 and 16, and I still get that same feeling if they tell me they have stomach aches. You are not alone.

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