Posted on by Allison Marie Conway

Don’t Even Say It

Tracing the outline of a tiny penciled-in flower in my notebook, I’m listening to some guy speak stale office speak on a video call as my mind drifts out the open window into the honeyed springtime air of late afternoon. It’s a little after three and I’m already fading into fantasies of a smooth glass of wine in the back garden as the setting tangerine sunlight glistens along the water-beaded stem.

My mind just stops these days. Where I used to go, go, go on to the next, now I am halted in body and spirit by a peculiar feeling I have never known before. A feeling like an uncomfortably extended dramatic pause. It is the sensation of a life suspended, suddenly stilled, thrown into stark relief. An inability to move as the rest of the world appears to be rushing by without so much as a sideways glance in my direction.

I am left behind.

No, I am being left behind.

It is a process I am forced to watch happening over and over and over each day. Rewind and repeat. While there are those who fetishize a return to normal, there are also those of us who know that would be a terrible mistake. We wonder how we got here in the first place. Too many wrong turns down dark and ruinous roads.

We always think we will see it coming or at least have some inkling, some clue about how far in which direction we should go. But there is no should and there is no road carved neatly along a path not yet taken.

Pouring a coffee, I exit the call and sink down into a pile of books wondering where to begin a thing which has long since already begun and ended a countless number of times before. This life, they’ll have you fooled well into believing it is a straight line when nothing could be farther from the truth. How often the future ends up tossing you three steps back even as the ghosts of the past loom larger in your mind than they may appear in the rear view mirror.

I remember the first warm Sunday afternoon of the season, driving fast with the windows down, swaths of sunlight rushing across his face, cast down through the trees which line the edges of an empty old riverside town. We laugh as we race the back roads just to feel like we’re getting somewhere. To make the rings around our circuitous lives stretch and blur until they finally disappear.

28 Replies to “Don’t Even Say It”

  2. “My mind just stops these days. Where I used to go, go, go on to the next, now I am halted in body and spirit by a peculiar feeling I have never known before. A feeling like an uncomfortably extended dramatic pause. It is the sensation of a life suspended, suddenly stilled, thrown into stark relief. An inability to move as the rest of the world appears to be rushing by without so much as a sideways glance in my direction. I am left behind. No, I am being left behind; it is a process I am forced to watch happening over and over and over each day. Rewind and repeat. While there are those who fetishize a return to normal, there are also those of us who know that would be a terrible mistake. We wonder how we got here in the first place. Too many wrong turns down dark and ruinous roads. We always think we will see it coming or at least have some inkling, some clue, how far in which direction we should go. But there is no should and there is no road carved neatly along a path not yet taken.”

    This section…

    It speaks to, or echoes, something deep within myself.

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      1. Here in Italy we are in phase 2, less restrictions.
        Since yesterday I have returned to the studio to remove rust and dust. 😂

        Ti voglio bene❤️🌹

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          1. I also think of you dear friend that’s why I come to visit you often.
            I sincerely wish you and your country to return to normal soon despite the tragedy we are all experiencing.
            Wishing you well dear and stay safe.
            LOVE❤️🖤🌹

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      1. Hi Allison, Yes, we do seem to be Hyper aware of the vibrations and whispers in the wind don’t we? I have found that to be true for me to be able to see or feel that someone else is sad or hurt even though they look ok. Weird, but a blessing too. Nice to share that ability with you too.

        So, curious? Do you, have you or might you have an interest in doing audio recitation for anyone but yourself? Just checking because I have a number of pieces written from a female viewpoint/voice that I think you could really make come alive if you might have an interest?? Just checking – no pressure, honest!
        You be safe, My Dear!!!
        Chuck 😊🌹🌹

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        1. Yes. It is a deep empathy, I do believe. A blessing and a burden, too, at times, but one I am so ever grateful to possess, to work with. As I am sure you are as well.
          As far as your curiosity, I am so humbled by your inviting me to read one of your pieces. While at the moment I know I am not able to commit to it, I think it is a lovely idea. I will surely keep this in mind, and I thank you so very kindly. It means a great deal to me that you enjoy my works. Do take good care, Chuck. ❤

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          1. Oh, I loved the way you put it – perfectly – A deep empathy and a blessing and a burden but one we can be so grateful for – perfect!!!

            I do so enjoy your work, Allison!! No pressure or worries! I just love your voice and the way you recite words! Totally understand about time and commitments. I am the one, who is humbled by you being willing to even entertain the idea! of reciting one of my poems!! So, I will say thank you and then give you an example and see if I can tempt you for when you might have an interest or time! Again, humbled that you would even consider it!! Too Sweet! You be safe too, Allison!! 😊🌹

            https://thereluctantpoetweb.wordpress.com/2017/05/27/trace-me-paint-me/

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  6. Pulling n-th shot of espresso while letting your words wash over me. Left behind or being left behind… Returning to whatever one calls normal… Everything inside scream “no fucking way should you do that!” It resonates… Poses questions… Since when is getting torn apart again and again a “normal?” Since when is return to such a “normal” normal? Why return to perpetual aching called being left behind? Scary times. Surreal times even. As our lives in many ways come to a full stop. Realizing that perhaps that they’ve been in full stop all along. As the rich and velvety elixir of goddesses and gods slowly makes its way into my body a hopeful realization erupts within me: it’s time to leave the “normal” of the past behind… It is followed by a sincere moment of long forgotten inner peace…

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    1. Mmm espresso, nice. And your comment is so thoughtful, and thought provoking, thank you so much for sharing all of it. I relate to all of your questions so much, and I love how you say “long forgotten peace.” There is something about all of this that feels to me like a returning to what is within, something ancient, wise, timeless. Perhaps in all the chaos some of what must turn to dust will finally fucking burn. ❤

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      1. I couldn’t wish for more than this! For what must turn to dust to finally fucking burn. To disintegrate and begone. As for chaos… I have long ago accepted that chaos is more trustworthy than what some call “order.” As much as chaos can bring about pain and destruction – at least it comes not in hidden or some behind-your-back way. Also… something truly majestic can “only” grow out of the ashes of whatever past was. Hence – I am raise my espresso cup to that – to all the beautiful ways chaos operates! ❤︎

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