As humans, we make promises to one another all the time. We make promises to be somewhere, then don’t show up, we make promises to call, then forget, we promise that “we will never do that again” only to repeat “that” over and over again; most of the time we make promises without considering that one day we may actually be called upon to uphold these promises. This is the story of one such promise.
I'd made the promise only a few years earlier, jokingly, now, I am standing here, my unfulfilled promise on the other side of this door, awaiting me.
I'm still finding it difficult to cope with. My mind keeps drifting back and forth between the present and the past making me feel very emotional and somewhat numb. I keep thinking that maybe this is really just some sick joke, maybe they've made a mistake, just some stupid mistake. People make mistakes all the time, right? I'm sure there's a room full of experts in white coats somewhere ready and waiting to tell me that I'm in the denial stage and give me a pamphlet on the subject, but what the hell do they know? Part of me knows that there's no use trying to make sense of it all, it will never make any sense, but trying to explain that to the other part of me is another matter entirely.
I find myself recalling a more innocent time, a sunshine-filled day when I had nothing to do but play with blocks and pull the dog's tail. But now the weight of my responsibilities presses upon me like a toppling marble statue of some Greek athlete--
"Oh for Pete's sake!" The door jerks open. My mother stands there in housecoat and curlers, cigarette dangling from her lips. "Are you gonna get started cleaning those gutters, Leroy, or are you just gonna lollygag on the porch all day?"
Opening: Brenda Delaney.....Continuation: Sarah Hawthorne