It Happened - Mrs. Weedgrass is free

"Not Guilty."

It echoed inside the court room and collectively a segment of the audience sighed. She was free to live out the rest of her life.

Mrs. Weedgrass clutched her purse, running her fingers over the leather binding, feeling for the Bible she kept inside. Surely this was her redemption. She could retire now without guilt.



She watched as the now elderly, vindicated Mrs. Weedgrass slowly walked away from the court and into the lobby. Her sunglasses warm and likely leaving a mark on her disguised face. She would find no solace, no comfort here.

She walked outside into the sun. Checked both sides of the street, and moved forward.

Secrets

It is incredibly significant - the things we don't say - and the reasons for it.

It is much like all things intangible - love, passion, sadness, grief, strength, perserverence, and all things that can be deafeningly quiet on the surface.

But the reasons...they make us whole and remind us of what is genuinely important about the world in which we live and those who orbit around and inside us.

Begin with the roots, friend, and work your way up, outward, and back around again.

This is you.

This is life.

The thing about love is...

You never quite believe it. It seems too easy, too perfect, when everything else in the world is going to hell.

I mean, who can honestly see the future and tell if it isn't some mirage, some fantastic vision obstructing reality for a period of time.


The thing about love is...

You never get all the answers.



That's the only way you can know.

Tangent #8 - Jokes

"You ever hear that one about the priest and the painted lady?" he asked.

"Nope," the other responded.

The deadpan look stopped the punchline in place and what would have been some crass anecdote died right there in the kitchen.

"Look man, I warned you about this in the beginning."

The other nodded and stared back at his book without responding. It wasn't like him to just...not talk.

"Listen dude, it's not a big deal. Okay? I just didn't know what to say to you about it and then I forgot, and you know."

"Yeah."

Weight filled the room in some inexplicable way. The air felt tepid and full of cotton. Hangovers aside, something felt foreign to the body, like that ache that begins right before a hard flu season.

"Seriously man, you gotta get over stuff like this. I told you, it's not a big deal."

"I told you, I get it."

And it hit him. Not like a Mack truck or a brick, but the truth plummeted down from some transcendental place and a quiet note in his head whispered "It's never going to be okay after this."

And the first looked at his friend, sitting quietly reading a book, and felt for the first time, the gravity of cowardice. The season of casually hurting people was over.

Tangent #7: She runs into God again.

He is still wearing a very nice suit.
This time, he is drinking a cup of coffee. It looked like it was from Starbucks.

She wondered if it was a mocha, a cafe latte, or straight brew.
There isn't a bracelet saying "WWGD" (what would God drink).

"Good morning," He said.
"Hello."

"You seem very pleasant today, happy even. You enjoying this life?" he asked.

"I am," she responded, turning her head to look for the coffee shop from which he came.

"This is good news," he said.


She looked at his cup curiously.


He smiled.




"It's a daily brew. Grande. Sometimes it's the very simple things that make life seem harmoniously perfect, don't you agree?" He said lightly, smile radiating.

Tangent #6: Choosing Discord

"If I had to describe it, it's much like buying tampons or going for your annual exam. It's not that you loathe it or hate it so much, but the necessity of it is just uncomfortable enough to make you acutely aware whenever you gotta do it. It's well, vital discomfort."

"I don't know," she replied. "I really loathe the exam part."

"True, but you do it anyway. You lose a percentage of your health awareness if you don't go. Right?"

"I suppose," she replied.

"There comes a time when you have to define who's worth it anymore and who is ultimately worth fighting for. It's the decision that feels the worst, not the actions that follow. You gotta protect yourself or in time, you won't recognize what you're preserving anymore."

Tangent 5 - Second attempt

This city doesn't make much sense to me sometimes. All the curvatures and craters in the pavement distract me from what could be a relatively beautiful place, I think.

Beautiful, if it weren't so horribly cold and windy.

Christ, you'd think this was Chicago.

But it's not.

When no one is around, I sing inside my car while driving. It protects me from the city and from the thought that my voice will just drop into the hollow atmosphere somewhere.

Here, no one knows my voice trembles on every soft note.

What drives us to keep secrets? What motivates us to sing softly, bury the heavy stuff, or tell outright falsehoods to others we meet on the street of this town?

It's protection from the wind, my friend.