Proof of Life

1–2 minutes

To read

I’m trying to prove to myself I’m still a human. Not the put-together type, but the feeling-deeply-kind. The heart dropping to the floor in the meaning of the moment.

In all the noise, in the rush, in the feeling like a stack of plates full of filet mignon, baked red potatoes, and sautéed green beans- plates I’d waitered to a white-clothed table, had slipped from my balancing grasp, I didn’t know if I’d lost me in it, too.

Am I still me?

The motions I can do. The sitting and nodding, too. But inside, the tightness, the twisting of a guitar’s tuning keys until the chord’s nerve breaks.

I’d broken. Or so I’d thought.

Out spilled my contents. A mess. And no matter how much I tried to scrape and soak and slosh it back in, I couldn’t.

What matters is I can feel. There’s a place below, deep within, that is not gone.

I touched her. She was touched.

And there she was. Still.

Love, Jaclynn

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