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Monday, May 30, 2005

Anguish

Outside the airport terminal. Here we embrace and say goodbye under dark Canadian clouds that look just like dark Minneapolis clouds, and here they come, the tears that have been pushing and shoving against my eyes since we descended into the subway and zipped north and then west and then ascended again and boarded a bus that brought us here, to this place of eternal transition – hellos and goodbyes and handshakes and hugs.

Hot streams run down my cheeks and I don’t care. Things are not the way I want them to be, not the way they should be, and if that’s not worth crying about, I don’t know what is. It is the barriers that get to me. The barriers and the uncertainties.

I do not understand why we must have so many unnecessary walls between people. Especially between those we love. What? I must have a passport to get on this plane and travel to this country that is separated from me by what? Only land the same as I am walking on now? I do not understand why you ask me for that. I go not to make war or to smuggle drugs, but simply to restore and explore and to laugh and to love.

And what again? This person I care deeply about is cut off from me? You will not let him come see my life and my people? Why? Because he was not born on this continent? And what if I cared for him so much that we wanted to spend our lives together? What then? Would you lower your iron gates and let us pass to build our own lives? No, the gates remain erect. That is not allowed. That is not allowed because…. I do not know.

It is the barriers and uncertainties that get to me, that cut short my breath and flush my face with anger and sadness. There are no promises of the future. Even careful planning cannot be trusted, because things are not in our control. We cannot protect each other whether they are nearby or far away. And so we are told we must enjoy today. Enjoy today. “Today is reality,” as Jose reminded me last night. Today is reality and a bunch of todays add up to a history and if the todays are good the history will be too and for that we are grateful because not everyone has such luxury.

But tomorrow is no luxury for anyone, because it is promised to no one. And so what do we make of that? Right now I cannot make anything of it except anguish. I want to know that tomorrow I will dress for work and that Jose will dress for work too and that soon he will start school again and that soon he will become what he has worked so hard for and that soon the barriers between us will not feel so great. I want to know that the work we do today and the things we went through yesterday are not in vain. But there are no promises of that.

There is only the hope of tomorrow. We simply believe tomorrow will come and it does every day until our last. There is only hope, and after this moment has passed, I will re-center and regain that hope. Anguish will be replaced with gratitude for a long weekend spent with someone who understands me regardless of the time and distance between us, whose beauty and strength and determination and willpower and talent cut through the residue of life and reflect from his eyes to mine and remind me of who I am and who he is and where we’ve both been and that no, there is no promise of a future, but there is today and yesterday and the day before and on those days, and tomorrow if we are lucky enough to have that, I am loved. And I love in return. That is the only thing in this world that is immutable.

Posted by Aaron on May 30, 2005 8:03 PM