I dislike long roads in cities, not because I easily get tired, but because I easily get lost. Who would think it possible to get disoriented along an avenue? The path is straight; still I lose my way, because of the derelict houses and dark shops that seem to shift and move ominously as I move forward. I am always compelled to pause, turn the inevitably wrong way, and forget what jeep or bus I should be boarding next. Five nights of wrong buses and lanes, each one a testimony to strengths I lack.
Once, it was dark when I took the wrong bus. I got off and grasped, as an adult, the fear of the dark for the first time. I think it feels the same as hearing words from that mouth, and not believing that that beloved mouth can mouth words that sharp and strong. It can't be, I think, feeling like a child pushed into a van hurtling in the dark, with drivers unknown, no parent to hold my hand.
In moments like these, I want a map, to tell me what bus to board, what word to say, which place holds monsters. Or a promise that eventually I would be found, if I keep feeling my way home.
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