She Walks and Thunder Takes a Bow

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Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

Remember my neighbor who has thunder in her heels?

I introduced myself one night as she was storming down the hall. Her smile appeared before I could part my lips, “Hey! Good evening! I’m Tre, by the way.” She nodded and acknowledged me as I fumbled with my keys, attempting to lock my door. “Hey, Tre. Nice to meet you. I’m Marcella.” I instantly think, And now, I know her name. I can greet her accordingly from this moment forward.

She strikes me as someone who commands the air around her to be still and it probably will. She’s not rude–no, not by a long shot. At least, not from what I can tell. She is, however, stern and confident in her approach to things. I get this–I can sense this. And why shouldn’t she be?

Marcella bolts around the corner just past my door and smiles in my direction once again, “Good night, Tre.” I am taken aback by this as I had already started to head down the hall in the opposite direction, but I don’t let the opportunity pass me by to wish her a good night also . . . “Oh! Good night to you as well, Marcella!”

We’ve made each other’s acquaintance, and I can breathe easier knowing someone’s name who lives just a couple doors down. We are surrounded by people we do not know–may not care to know, however, I must become familiar with people and places in my surroundings. I have always been this way. I doubt I will ever change.

On the eve of a night when bombs land on hospitals and children’s lifeless bodies are removed from debris spread about their homeland, I toss the idea of communing with others just for shits and giggles in my rattled brain. Why aren’t we a more loving people?! What is happening to humanity? Gone are the days when we could see a child slain in broad daylight and our heart splits in two, withers, and slides down to our feet until we’re walking on our pain.

W H Y A R E N ‘T W E E N R A G E D?!

I try to remind myself not to sink too far down the rabbit hole of videos and articles about the goings-on and genocide occurring in a country/land that feels half a world away. But as time ticks on, I watch another reel, read another blurb, and find my eyes fixated on yet another image, and I can’t pull away.

But I think back to Marcella–the woman with thunder in her heels who appears to be forceful yet gentle, too. And I wonder, is she thinking about world issues and how we need to attempt to save humanity also? Or, is she wrapped up in her own little world simply trying to survive while the rest of us who are too sensitive crumble?

And just as I am preparing to read for the night and tuck myself into cottoned delight, I hear her storm down the hall once more.

And I notice thunder take a bow.

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