The Hallway

The hallway.  

The space in between.  

The transition from one place to another.  

In the hallway.  

I hide.  I cry.  

I hesitate.

I can hear her cursing.  She never curses.  The music has been loud for hours.  The singing.  The distance.  I should have known when we got home and she was watering the lawn.  Watering the lawn.  And the sunglasses.  She is hiding.  She has secrets.  It was going to be one of those weekends.   

In the hallway.  

I hide.  I cry.  

I hesitate. 

I can hear her sobbing.  She's gagging.  She's vomiting.  She's screaming.  She's vomiting again.  I am 8.  I am 11.  I am 17.  I am paralyzed and never know what to do.    

In the hallway.  

I wait.  I listen.  

I hide.  

I want to go and reassure her.  Tell her it's alright.  Tell her there are people that love her.  That I will make it better.  Be better.  Love her more.  I want to go and make it okay.   Comfort her.  Stop her.  Rescue us.  Feel some security.  Some safety.   

In the hallway.  

I wait.  I listen.  

I hide.  

I was rescued often.  By my uncle.  He scolded me for getting involved.  For waiting there.  Pulled me into his room.  His world of books.  My white flowery blanket with ruffles, we sat and read.  Books of goblins and fairies.  Good and evil.  We were safe, in his books, in his world.  

In the hallway.  

The space in between.  

The transition from one place to another.  

In the hallway.  

I hesitate.

The movie.  The Sixth Sense.  The little boy is using the bathroom.  It's cold.  The music jumps.  The angry spirit of the woman in the pink robe swirls by...I am always scared like that in the hallway.  Always run like something is after me.  Like I won't come back.  Like I'll be stuck there forever.  Like I have no where else to go.  Always in transition.  Always waiting...listening...hiding.  From my life.  Waiting to be perfect.  Perfect enough to come out of the hallway.  Worthy enough for her not to vomit.  Not to drink.  Not to scare me.  

In the hallway.  

I hide.

picture source

This post is linked to my response..."Come Out of the Hallway, Little Girl"...I encourage you to read it too!  :)

(Repetitive writing style inspired by Heather's post "Do You Know What I Mean?"  at The Extraordinary Ordinary.)