Gone but Not Forgotten

Birds of a Feather

    It took me awhile to face morning. I gave the shower an unreasonable amount of time to try  to drown me, while the water grew cold and the bill for it higher. I thought it may be having progress but the smell of burnt toast was just waving in from the kitchen to alert me Kyle arrived for breakfast. I stumbled still naked in his direction, wishing he'd notice more then the puddles I was leaving.

    He threw me a towel before a plate of gluten free charcoal covered in a vegan chocolate spread appeared in front of me. He didn't ask how I was doing. I appreciated that.

    Another day another dollar. He would drive me to work. I would help other people's nieces, daughters, mothers, husbands, brothers, girlfriends... figure out who took their loved ones where, and hope to get to them before it was to a small well lit French street cafe. 

     My mother has never approved of what I do for a living. She never wanted me to use these skills that were passed through her side of the family like an heirloom or maybe more like an unwanted second hand toaster oven. She owed me. It is hard to keep secrets from a parent who knows your sins before you have committed them. Her own mother could read minds like opening a book. For me it had all  started out as dreams I didn't realize were more and a dead girl I happened upon in my closet. My parents sent me to a psychologist who said I was projecting my fears of being slapped by my teacher. (It was allowed back then). I tried again and again to explain that no... she was there. She had drown. Her own mother had not been as concerned with her well being as mine was.

    In some ways I have come to heed her warnings. I do not normally talk to the dead. "Birds of a feather flock together" mother would say. There are doors between ours and the spirit world. They are meant to be shut for a reason. I do not go looking for things; I think as I sit with a mountain of files and a cup of fair trade coffee. When I was a teen I realized I could feel a physical energy. Things and places that had been exposed to positive experiences were like slipping your hand into warm water, calm waves, soothing. Those that had the opposite vibrated, angry, extreme temperatures. I no longer check for such things. I do not open my mind to images. I do not search, but if something is obvious I do not deny it either. I do not reach for the victims. I listen for what God may tell me. Still sometimes they leave residue.

    God is always talking. It is not loud. People wait for the feel of a tidal wave, the sound of thunder, a volcano erupting. It is like a whisper in the wind, or remembering something you never knew. There is no power in darkness. It is parlor tricks and imagery. You are throwing away so much more then you are getting. Evil is an excellent used car sales man. 

    "Hey Mansetti, Louis is going to pick up some real coffee you want anything?" I throw them a smile. It is all affectionate play. It is easy to drink regular coffee with sugar and dairy cream when you do not feel the affect your decisions are making.