There was blockage in the toilet, but I took a second look, because I thought it might be a rat. Yes, I sat there peering at someone else’s giant poop in the toilet, doubting that’s what it was, figuring it for a rat, just not knowing if it was a drowned rat or not. That’s disgusting. That’s crazy.
Last week, I stood in the AT&T store, turning my phone over in my hand, doubting that it was actually a phone.
Ha, ha, aren’t I nutty.
The week before, I walked into a room and wouldn’t have been surprised if I found someone dead there.
I have basis for finding someone unexpectedly dying in a room, for finding a rat perched on the dogs’ water bowl. Why wouldn’t I think a phone is not a phone? Why not a rat in a toilet? Why not carry a pile of laundry into a room and find your world shattered? Anything could happen, really. This world is unpredictable and, I am learning, unsafe.
I’m pretty sure this is still the trauma.
I do what I can to gird myself against the unpredictability. I hold up the grocery line, carefully placing my bills into place in my wallet. I clip my keys to my purse as soon as I stop the car. I fold my yoga blankets like some sort of meditation, lining them up neatly. My office desk is clear, with my course files stacked regimentally–uniform and ready for the job. I am trying to make order in this world, which can be horrible, so suddenly, and in the most mundane places.