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Dear Heavenly Father, watch over that child... stay with it and get the tissues--all true, my yesterday

"Dear Heavenly Father, watch over this child..." My arms clasped more firm around her as my mind begged my Creator, "...for we both know too well what comes next." And it did.

Yesterday I turned on my computer and I thought, "Now what? What should I write about today?" Don't get me wrong. It wasn't that I had no stories to tell. As I stated in a past blog--I am an artist, my brain never shuts off. Yet which story to tell? I turned to my friends on facebook and wrote; "oh what, oh what shall I write about today? Any suggestions?"

Usually by that time of day I would already have my blog done, posted, and indeed let the world of twitter, facebook, myspace, and the multiple other sites know it was up. But not yesterday. Oh, I had a terrible dream the night before...

... that should have been a sign.

I called the pooch, trotted down the two stairwells, opened the back car door for him. I closed the door behind him. He jumped up in his car seat. I got in my seat, fastened my belt and off we went to the store for cigs, then down the coast highway to pick up the mail.

Oh a fine drive indeed... windows rolled down, wind blowing our hair and faces, stereo blaring, and perfect California weather... not to hot and not too cold. . . the 101 Pacific Coast Highway brought in the usual smells of salt, and as always promised some of god's finest artwork out to play, surf, run... big muscles, small muscles, tall bodies, short bodies, broad shoulders, narrow shoulders, tanned and pale; as always there they be for the eyes to see. Better than any exhibit at any gallery. The Creator's artwork.

On my return home I went back to you. I opened the tab to facebook and...

My facebook friend, Gord had responded to my request for story ideas, "how about the human condition and lifelong commitments?"

Carol replied, "let your mind come out and play. the imagination is a wonderful playground..."

Paul, (my most engaging cyber friend in politics, life, all things social and indeed writing) reported, "How bout '40% of tweets are meaningless babble e.g.' I'm having a sandwich"'

My elementary school friend Melanie affirmed, " i like the.. let your mind come and play.. idea : )"

I thought about Gord's request... indeed a good one... a real challenge for my heart and brain.

... Not knowing what the day had in store for me ...

...  I again left my computer and put on my workout cloths; black yoga pants and a gray tee. I pulled back my hair in a high ponytail (human condition? lifelong commitment?)... so it wouldn't annoy me when leaning against the benches when I did my work outs. Then back to you I went.

I advised Carol and Melanie, "oh, folks... letting my mind out would drive you all MAD... think me, brad pitt, and you all edward norton--fight club." I know what goes on in my head and as I have said in the past, any ex will attest, it is a place you really don't want to go...

I advised all I was going to the gym to ponder Gord's request.

And I did. I pondered the human condition while working against the weights and listening to my 'pump you up' music. What is that? The human condition? What is it to me? And what, oh what is my life long commitment? Anyone who knows me, and for those that don't... the longest relationship I ever had with a man was with my dad, off and on 22 years, and Max, half shep and half wolf dog I had for over 12 years. So life long commitment wasn't a relationship... we could rule that out.

Music I thought? Ah, put on the headphones and turn up the volume--it is hard to tell where it ends and I begin... put me in an arena, where the bass beats my heart, the strings and tones cause me to jerk or sway becoming one once again. And not just any music; passionate music and complex lyrics that force me to move and sway and dance and think with the artist... with the sounds and beats and luls. No matter what is going on in life, I can use that music, blaring loud to escape and drown out and indeed become one with, to leave everything, absolutely everything bad/wordly out. It has been that way for me for as long as I can remember. Even in the crib, when my mom and dad would be screaming, I remember throwing the pillow over my head, locked it tight against my ears, face to the sheets and my butt up in the air swaying to nursery rhymes chanted or mother daughter songs sung...

In the steam room i questioned, but has that been life long?

I stopped at the store and picked up some apples and veggies for a salad. ... and indeed is it music, my human condition? I bit the apple and watched as I drove... What does that mean?

My Honda Fit securely in the garage, I walked Indie, my adopted Jack Russell. I disappointed him when we bypassed the car doors and made our climb up the stairs. I grabbed and then ate a yogurt, checked in with you, then jumped in the shower.

Maybe words?

Maybe distractions?

Maybe escapes?

Maybe those were my lifelong commitment?

Ah, shit, I was stumped. Gord had me stumped... perplexed.

I decided to escape in my favorite soap that recorded on my computer while I worked out, General Hospital.

The knock on my door... "come on in" I said.

Knock again... "come on it." I shouted louder.

Nothing.

There I sat, hair still wet, no bra, a skimpy sleeveless tee, shorts... shoot, maybe it is a friend and not my roommate, shawn... I looked down at the manor dressed and weighed things quickly... shawn and I have roomed together for so long we are like brother and sister; although fully dressed we both walk around the house in manors that would never be public... I jumped up and ran to the door... slowly opening it to find a pale shawn standing there, head down.

I let the door swing opened wide. Turned my back to return to my desk and asked, "didn't you hear me yelling 'come in'?"

Shawn stood in place, "do you know anything medical?" He was slow to enter, which was strikingly unusual for him.

I turned before getting the chance to sit, "are you okay? are you sick?" He looked sick.

It is the new neighbor across the drive.

What is it? What has happened?

He looked faint... she is bent over... the daughter came rushing here. i told her to call 911.

I past shawn and started down the steps... where is the daughter?

At her house... as we trotted down the steps. A belt around her arm.

Whose with her? with the kid?... start from the beginning; barefooted I made my way through the garage.

There is a belt around her arm. I think she is cold, shawn followed behind as we ran up their concrete steps to the condo.

Teen screams and cries grew louder as the door opened...

where is her bedroom? I asked of shawn.

The teen clinging to the 911 op on her cell. We ran up the stairs.

Again, I walked through a scene I have indeed experienced too many times in the past. The cries of a child. The smell of fear. The demon abuse taken another victim home-- leaving loved ones with questions of pain... a career left to rid the images, to remove myself from the drama; to create for myself and before I die another kind of life seen... yet it followed me... to 92009 of all places (truly OC in San Diego County.)

Bent, face first over her bed. Belt around her left arm that was bent backwards. Legs beginning to turn purple. Back cold. Neck still warm.

We need to get her on the floor. I said to shawn.

I can't touch her, he said to me.

We need to ....

They want to talk to you... they child yelled up... I cannot go back up there.

Shawn ran from the room.

I removed the belt. I felt for a pulse. There was none. I grabbed her shoulders, with an attempt  to move her on my own. Shawn returned with the phone, they want to talk to you.

We need to get her off the bed and on to the floor...

Here talk to them, his face even paler..

Look you two need to get her on the floor and start CPR...

Yes, I know... hold on... I threw the phone on to the bed... Shawn, we must get her on the floor...

The paramedics are here. I hear them climbing the stairs. They can do it... he ran from the room.

I lifted the phone and told the 911 op, I cannot lift her on my own. The paramedics are here.

You must! Get started! Get her ready for the paramedics....

I thew the phone, bent down, put my arms under and around her shoulders, stood up straight... a needle flew from her right hand, blood droplets on the coverlet, and yanked her, pulling back,  to the floor... I threw the fallen needle on to the bed, out of harms way and straightened her legs to assure she was laid flat... as I started to bend over her chest... thinking it has been awhile do I remember? fuck, do I remember?... the paramedics entered the room.

What has she taken?

I don't know. I grabbed the needle from the bed and handed it to one of the men... Without saying, I knew she was gone.  I complied gratefully and left the room to be with the child.

I got on the floor with her. I wrapped my arms around her and asked her how we can get in touch with her father (the two are divorced... and the mother and daughter only a few weeks into this home). The girl in cheer-leading uniform, hits the number... I told him, he needed to get here for his daughter... he started to ask questions, I told him there was a problem with her mom,  he needed to be here for her, for the child... he asked more questions. We don't know anything, but the child needed him. The paramedics are with the mother. He needed to get here for the child.  I handed the phone to the pale one... I was done trying to answer his questions. I held the child for a bit and then escorted her home, to my house.

Hours past; paramedics, police, detectives, trauma folks, police, ex-husbands... and more importantly a child (merely a year older than I was) locked within herself, being strong for everyone else, wanted all my windows closed to block out the noise (I got it only too well), hiding in a hoody... a life changed forever.

Yet again, my heart broke.

So, I discovered through yesterday's experience...

The human condition is the breath.

My life long commitment is to keep doing it... breathing that is.

And today... well, it is truly one of those days... those days that don't come about often... when I really wish I was in a relationship... to be held... to be distracted from thinking about that poor little girl whose life changed forever yesterday.

Dear Heavenly Father, watch over that child...for we both know too well what comes next.

Have a grand day all. Peace.

btw; this is all true.