Sommerset

I drove more than an hour cutting through the winding highway of Oklahoma City, southbound, every mile bringing me closer and closer to where you are... somewhere out there. I wish I knew where. But I turned off the highway and skimmed through the beautiful, stunning streets of the far southside, where I'd never been before, shocked at the wealth and beauty around me. And when I pulled into the Sommerset assisted living center, I felt that I was back in Indiana, in a tiny but wealthy city of Valporaiso. Because both times, I was all alone. My dreams had been shattered. And all I had was my trying. Back then, I met Andrea. And as we sang to old people with no hope and I fell in love with them and their stories, I fell in love with her, too. But they all died on me. Every one, and most of all her. She was my best friend and those days, in the nursing home, were our very best. Before Satan attacked us... before I fell, again and again. When I look back I see so many things she did wrong but most of all I see myself. Because I was wrong. And I'll never get to go back and fix it all. Those years are broken and always will be. And this time? I walked into the nursing home and no one was there but little old people who looked at me through cloudy eyes and stretched out shaky, wrinkly hands to welcome me. And I felt a lump in my throat. Because we were going to start this ministry up together, and we never got the chance. And I miss you... I miss everything we never got to do, everything we never got to be. It's okay, you know, I don't hate you or think badly at all... because when I look back, and I think about things like when you ran from me at the caffeteria that day like I was a plague, rather than a human being and your hurting friend... all I see is me. I see myself. My mistakes. Too many to count. So much confusion, so much pain, and so much failure. Again and again.... I see all I did wrong. And I pray for you to come back. I pray and pray and pray myself breathless... and I don't know if it will ever happen. More and more all I hear in my head are those horrible, senseless words you slapped in my face, "Time will continue to go on." So I wrap my bleeding heart in my chest and put on a soft white blouse and drive an hour to sit and visit with the old people.... whose lives have been lived, lost, loved, and broken, too. And I miss you there... but I'm so glad I'm here with them. Because I can help them. Because they can help me. Maybe it's the missing piece, you know? When the past blurs with the future. When the pitiful existence I spend each day ends up with some tiny blossom of meaning.