Monday, May 14, 2012


Jess Ross Grogan
August 12, 2006—2 AM
San Giovanni in Persiceto, Italy

  
An Unexpected Turn


The silent air rising up from the fields stung our faces as we barreled down the remote highway of the Italian countryside.  On our way home, the alcohol fueling my train of thought had allowed me to succumb to the depths of an attitude of causeless jealousy for the angel behind the wheel.  I had regretted my previous words and the aggressive punctuality of them in response to those around me.  The smell of the crops and their stagnant irrigation canals permeated my thoughts as they ran alongside us in the illustrious glow of the full moon which chased us home.  The taste of cheap beer and pizza still rang clear in my mouth and tightly wrapped my palate so that I held my tongue to prevent my breath from escaping into the dark, cramped cavern of our vehicle.
            “Are you mad at me for something?” she calmly sang, with a perfectly balanced hint of subtle defensive dictation, allowing each word to be softer than the next.
            “No, of course not,” I replied.  But she knew better and so did I.  She had grown used to my critical behavior and unnecessary shifts in temperament long ago and I secretly regretted forcing her to have done so, but in that moment I would have never admitted it.  I felt guilty.  I had become quite touchy when she had openly disagreed with me earlier that night about some senseless, empty conversation we were having with her group of friends about a topic which I could not now recall.  But unlike the memory of words past, the feeling stuck, and now I was faced with climbing back out of the hole which I had dug for myself and into which I had sought refuge from those who I had assumed were attacking me without reason.
            In my vague, drunken stupor I had wished that she were in America, in the company of my friends, so it might be different.  And for what?  So I could do it to her in return?  What a pathetic  sentiment clogs one’s mind when they lose control of the ability to think considerately!  I realized the error of my ways, and turning to look at her realized again how much and why I was so in love with her.  Sometimes in a relationship it is quite possible to neglect the foundation of the relationship itself due to the harsh reality of complacency which sets in both eventually and inevitably.  Forgetting how much you love someone is, in my opinion, and, as seen from the perfect hindsight which is shared by all lovers, a prime and often habitual motivation for treating them in a way which you had previously swore to them that you wouldn’t.  
            She could have lashed out at me and put me in my place, hastily shoveling the dirt which I had excavated from the hole right back upon me, holding me hostage against my own pointless actions.  Instead, she had pulled me out and brought me back to life, just as she had always done.  What a pitiful triumph one finds in revenge, I thought.  I finally began to comprehend how someone can triumph with love and understanding, never journeying to the vile depths of what seems to be justifiable recourse.  That is, to me, real love.  To use the fire within to warm rather than to burn.  To control the storm of emotion which accompanies everyday interaction and to strive to keep the levy from breaking.  I wanted to be just like her—and it hurt me to realize that I wasn’t.  Still, it brought me back to life once I recognized that she loved me anyway.
            We arrived back home and slowly climbed out of the car into the densely humid night.  Before opening the front door of the house I strode forward to meet her hand at the lock.  Slipping my hand around her waist inside her jacket, I grasped her as though it would be the last time—the soft curve of her torso tormenting me exponentially as I gently bowed my head in resignation into the fold of her neck and shoulder.  She caressed me, and understood.  No words were needed to express the feelings boiling inside me as I struggled to regain some semblance of dignity, lost within her world. 
            Eventually we made our way into the house and went to sleep.

            It’s funny how the most important things in life are also the most ordinary—the things we take for granted.  We assign such large values to such trivial things, while our lives pass us by—like dropping a rock into a lake…slowly descending, without the knowledge or foresight to see the approaching end or its’ location.  Like such a stone, heavy with burdens bore from our own hand-picked destinies descended from the self-fulfilling prophecies we create in our lives, we wander—knowing not our direction nor purpose but breathing on the pure hope that someone will soon reveal it to us.  With hard shell we prey upon those who are far from allies to our enemies, praying to be recognized for being just in our actions.  We dream of how life should be—yet we rarely step out upon those thin limbs of aspiration, lest they break, leaving us to find ourselves unarmed in unknown territory.  Sitting contently, we watch those extensions of our lives sway in the gathering winds blown by another.  Complacent in our displacement, we pride our every move upon a provident allegiance to a force greater than ourselves, begging to ascend.  Our heart, a trunk deep with many roots, acts as a beacon to our soul—infallible to us, yet flawed by the same evil which lies within us all, filling us with such bitter confidence and fastidious expectation—hope.

2 comments:

  1. Jess, I think this post was amazing. Your self-awareness is so refreshing. I can't wait to see what you write next.

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  2. Thanks so much Ashley, I really appreciate you saying that. Im gonna try to write a new post or post something that I wrote a long time ago at least twice a week. I wrote this late one night in 2006 while I was living with my wife in Italy for the summer. I appreciate you reading it.

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