It’s true.
I didn’t go where I always knew I had to go, where all the clues were leading me, because I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t want anything bad to happen. I didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of this night a year ago. The mistakes I’ve made ever since.
Yolo jumps off my lap. Has he heard something stirring in the bushes? Or is it only the wind, the rain? Either way, he wants to go.
“Okay,” I say. “Okay.”
He looks back at me, one glance, quick-fast.
And then he is gone.
I reach over my shoulder, put my hand on my back. “There, there,” I say to myself, my knees dirty from kneeling on the ground to look for Yolo, my own hand leaving a print on my own shirt.
There.
There.
125.
now
GET TH3M BACK.
It’s been written so many places now.
In my journal, on the marquee. On the side of the dugout, with the glass shards here in the bathroom, where I’ve come to gather my things.
“Get you back,” I say. “Okay.”
Maybe I will.
I feel angry.
I like it.
It has been a long time since I felt this.
Iwillget you back.
For everything.
126.
Therapist:There is a quote that I’d like to share with you. It has to do with what we’ve been talking about. Mindfulness, and impermanence.
July:Okay.
Therapist:It’s from a monk named Thich Nhat Hanh. Would it be all right if I read it to you?
July:
July:Okay.
Therapist:“Living is a joy. Dying in order to begin again is also a joy. Starting over is a wonderful thing, and we are starting over constantly.”
July:
Therapist:Did that quote mean anything to you? Or speak to you in any way? It doesn’t have to.
