Starting Over

She's lovely, really, mid-thirties, dark hair, fair skin, smart, talented. Wonderful in most ways, the sort of person who makes you feel better about yourself.

"There's something wrong with me," she said. "I can't DO anything. I just AM." Her hands lay upon the green table top, her mouth turned downward in thoughtful doubt. A server passed the table, paused, then continued on. I like this cafe. It seems out of time, quiet, fragile.

"A roach lay on the floor in my kitchen for two days. I couldn't bring myself to pick it up. It was more than I could do. My yard is a mess. I'm afraid the neighbors will complain to the city. I left my garbage can on the curb all week. This morning, the chain in the back of my toilet broke, so I have to take off the top of the tank and reach down into the water to pull the flap. It was the end. I can't fix it. Everything is in need of repair. I just can't do anything any more. That is me. That is my life."

She looked like she wanted a cigarette, but she doesn't smoke. She picked up her glass by the stem but didn't bring it to her lips. She placed it back on the table silently.

"Beyond that, I'm just scared."

She didn't look at me. Her pale hands fluttered a little, like moths. One patted the back of her hair softly.

"So I've decided to get rid of everything, just start over. I started with my closet. I didn't have the energy to clean it up. That would have been too much. So I told myself, 'ten things, you have to throw away ten things.' I picked out some blouses I haven't worn for a long time, then some pants that had gotten too tight. Then I chose three pairs of shoes. After that, I felt better. And now, I have decided to throw away one thing every day. It makes you see your life again rather than simply passing through it. You have to make decisions, seemingly small ones, but it is more difficult than I imagined. Today, I chose between a small woven basket and a painted soap dish. I don't really like either of them any more, but they have value and would look good somewhere. I just don't know where. So I tossed the soap dish. I won't miss it."

She drank from her glass and looked at me. Sitting there with her then, that is what I wanted to do, too.