Story
Eye Witness Previous Story
We leave a trail of evidence in the ordinary day-to-day.
“Where were you on the night in question?”
In my mind, the question re-emerges like a broken record.
Where was I on that night?
Am I implicated?
Am I an accomplice?
In a bare, stark-plastered room with high ceilings, I sit on a wood bench alone. I feel the slight breeze through the window high on a wall. There is no view.
I wait. Today begins an assessment, an examination of my life at age 50. I will review the facts, reconstruct my opinions, take stock of all the events up to this moment. Perhaps I’ll dodge the facts or change my course. I’ve called myself to give evidence of the events that led to this moment of reckoning.
My thoughts and feelings unfold in the silence. No surprises at first, as I move from the inconsequential to the recent, the obvious, the triumphs and minor shortcomings.
Naturally, I prefer remembering the hero-stories where I was on the right side, blameless and irreproachable. Upon reflection, I discover that I’m satisfied with all my choices. I gather evidence to support my view. But as I linger on the questions, details emerge, shadowy, vague and incomplete—all the memories I’ve shoved into my mind’s recesses, of loss, frustration, compromise, limitation. How much more comfortable it is to keep these minutiae forgotten or vaguely reframed!
A sound at the back of the room jars me from my thoughts. I turn, surprised to see that no one is there. I take a breath and relax, close my eyes and lean against the wall. Abruptly, I realize that, at this moment of taking stock, I am alone. There is no one to corroborate my testimony, no one to give me an alibi. Just me, waiting to climb into the witness stand.
You may also want to visit our other websites:
Uncommon Promise Video Channel
Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog
The UP Side Lowdown by Cheryl
New Music - Virtual CD
In my mind, the question re-emerges like a broken record.
Where was I on that night?
Am I implicated?
Am I an accomplice?
In a bare, stark-plastered room with high ceilings, I sit on a wood bench alone. I feel the slight breeze through the window high on a wall. There is no view.
I wait. Today begins an assessment, an examination of my life at age 50. I will review the facts, reconstruct my opinions, take stock of all the events up to this moment. Perhaps I’ll dodge the facts or change my course. I’ve called myself to give evidence of the events that led to this moment of reckoning.
Nothing but the truth
My thoughts and feelings unfold in the silence. No surprises at first, as I move from the inconsequential to the recent, the obvious, the triumphs and minor shortcomings.
Naturally, I prefer remembering the hero-stories where I was on the right side, blameless and irreproachable. Upon reflection, I discover that I’m satisfied with all my choices. I gather evidence to support my view. But as I linger on the questions, details emerge, shadowy, vague and incomplete—all the memories I’ve shoved into my mind’s recesses, of loss, frustration, compromise, limitation. How much more comfortable it is to keep these minutiae forgotten or vaguely reframed!
A sound at the back of the room jars me from my thoughts. I turn, surprised to see that no one is there. I take a breath and relax, close my eyes and lean against the wall. Abruptly, I realize that, at this moment of taking stock, I am alone. There is no one to corroborate my testimony, no one to give me an alibi. Just me, waiting to climb into the witness stand.
You may also want to visit our other websites:
Uncommon Promise Video Channel
Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog
The UP Side Lowdown by Cheryl
New Music - Virtual CD
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