Of turtles and other things.
Prose IV
Mattie sat comfortably on the stone bench and stared intently at the sky. The American Cemetery was deserted and quiet. How nice, she thought. She had come there to think. It was uncharacteristic of her, really. She had visited the cemetery twice before but this was the first time she went there alone. She realized that she appreciated the openness of the place a lot more now that she was by herself.
What caused today's visit? Nothing in particular. Work was fine, the family was fine, her friends were fine ---maybe that was the problem. Everything was just ridiculously fine. Not riveting, not spectacular, not marvelous, not anything. She shouldn't complain but the monotony of it all was maddenning. Coming to the cemetery was a break in her routine, her tedious, predictable routine.
So in the middle of her commute, she called in sick and asked the cabbie to take her to the mall instead of the office. When she had killed a few hours there, she decided to visit the cemetery.
Now here she was.
She didn't know how long she was studying the clouds before a fair, young gentleman approached her.
"Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon," she greeted back.
He sat on the next stone bench a few feet from her.
"What are you looking at?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Nothing really. The sky, the lawn, the flags."
He nodded. "Acknowledging their presence. I see."
What an odd way to put it. "Sure."
After a moment he spoke again. "That cloud looks like a turtle."
"No, it doesn't."
"Sure it does. That big part is obviously the shell and those little tufts sticking out at the bottom are the head and legs."
"Oh," she said, "I see it now."
"Did you know that turtles could live up to a hundred-fifty years old?"
"Yeah, I knew that."
"Can you imagine that? Living up to a hundred years? What would you do?"
She gave it some thought. "Well, the short answer is that I'd do what I have to do. You know, do my job, be nice to people, do the right things --all that stuff."
"You don't sound very excited."
"Not much to be excited about, really. It's my life, sure, but it's driven by circumstance. Even if I knew what makes me happy, that doesn't mean I'll get it. I don't need a hundred and fifty years."
"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" A pause. "So you mentioned your job, people and the right things." He looked thoughtful. "How do you feel about your job?"
"It's fine."
"Just fine?"
"Yeah."
"But you're not happy?"
"Honestly, I don't need to be happy at work. I just need it to be tolerable. Pays well."
"Okay, so we agree that your job does not define your happiness?"
Silence. Then, "Yes."
"All right. What about people? Family and friends? I imagine they drive you crazy."
"You don't know the half of it."
"But you're still with them?"
"Well yeah, I still care about them."
"Even if they make you unhappy?"
Silence again. Then, "I'm not unhappy all the time."
"So we agree that you choose to surround yourself with these people."
"Yes."
"So it's not that bad, right?"
"I wouldn't abandon them, if that's what you mean."
"I think that's precisely what I mean." He smiled.
"I guess that only leaves the right things?" she asked.
"What can you tell me about that?"
"Not much. I try to do right by everyone. Even strangers. I wouldn't hand drugs to a kid nor would I actually put out a hit on a person. I won't stop joking about it, though. I wouldn't slander anyone. I wouldn't orchestrate a Ponzi scheme. I'm not a bully. I'm not a slacker. I don't litter, I don't steal and I don't lie."
"You don't lie?" He raised an eyebrow as if to challenge her presence here on a work day.
"Not out of malice. I have a conscious effort to do right by people."
"Well, that's really all you need right?"
"I guess." She sighed. "I suppose what you're trying to tell me is that I have a pretty good life."
"No, you told me that. I just reminded you."
"Still sounds like a so-so life, not exactly a happy one."
"Not yet. You haven't covered everything."
"I haven't?"
"What of love?"
"What about it?"
"Where does that fit in?"
"Search me."
"You need love to be happy."
"Oh please."
"Hold on. I could already tell you were a cynic by the way you were sitting out here but hear me out."
How was I sitting? she wondered.
"Many years ago," he began, "the world was a mess. No peace, no order. Families and friends were torn apart and everyone was fighting. You couldn't tell who was right or wrong. Just a bunch of young men acting on orders from older, powerful men with skewed sets of beliefs."
He looked at her and she noticed that he wasn't that young-looking after all.
"There were thousands of soldiers going through all sorts of hell. The only thing they had to hold on to were letters from home. Happy letters, hopeful letters, even sad letters and Dear John letters. Why? Because it reminded them of the lives they wanted to get back to. Trust me, if you're under enemy fire, you're not thinking about of defeating them, you're thinking about how horrible it would be if folks back home had to go to your funeral.
"When those thoughts run through your heard, you will get a feverish need to tell people that you love them. Am I talking about family? Of course. But allow me to be sentimental and refer to that other kind of love. The kind that you have for only one person. You'd die for her, live for her, do things you didn't know you could do for her. And there would be a sort of clawing at your heart if you haven't felt that yet. I'd call you young and you should wait for your turn. I hope you live long enough."
He gave a rueful laugh. "I'm rambling. But the point is, young lady, if you think your life is just so-so, then I advise you to love. I'm not saying fall stupid in love and make bad decisions, but when you feel ready and sure, do not hold back. There's a clarity there and a powerful force behind it."
"You fell very hard, didn't you?" Mattie asked.
"I did and I told her so."
"What happened?"
"Doesn't matter. What you should take from that is that I told her so. If you love someone, you tell them, or else they'll never know."
"But what if he doesn't love you back?"
"Doesn't matter. 'Even a one-sided love is complete in itself.' If you're going to wallow in the loss, I think you still have some growing up to do. You don't love someone because he loves you too. You love someone simply because you do."
A purple haze was stretching across the sky. The day would end soon.
The fair, young gentleman stood up. "I should be going. You still have a little time before the park closes. I'll leave you to your thoughts."
He smiled and held out his hand. "My name is Jimmy. I enjoyed our conversation."
She took his hand and smiled back. "Mattie. Thanks, it was great talking to you too."
He left the same way he arrived and disappeared behind the pillars.
She looked back at the bench where he had sat. Behind him was a wall into which was carved the names of the soldiers long gone but not forgotten. Right there, plain as day: 1LT James R. Conroy.
Mattie stared back up the sky. The setting sun cast a warm glow over her. She felt much better than she had this morning and she honestly believed that tomorrow was going to be a good day.
Triggered by the American Cemetery, which I pass everyday on my way to work. Anyway, I should say that I'm not trying to be preachy. I just thought that if I could talk to ghosts they'd tell me something like this.
"Even a one-sided love is complete in itself." is from the film Heavenly Forest (2006)
Mattie sat comfortably on the stone bench and stared intently at the sky. The American Cemetery was deserted and quiet. How nice, she thought. She had come there to think. It was uncharacteristic of her, really. She had visited the cemetery twice before but this was the first time she went there alone. She realized that she appreciated the openness of the place a lot more now that she was by herself.
What caused today's visit? Nothing in particular. Work was fine, the family was fine, her friends were fine ---maybe that was the problem. Everything was just ridiculously fine. Not riveting, not spectacular, not marvelous, not anything. She shouldn't complain but the monotony of it all was maddenning. Coming to the cemetery was a break in her routine, her tedious, predictable routine.
So in the middle of her commute, she called in sick and asked the cabbie to take her to the mall instead of the office. When she had killed a few hours there, she decided to visit the cemetery.
Now here she was.
She didn't know how long she was studying the clouds before a fair, young gentleman approached her.
"Good afternoon."
"Good afternoon," she greeted back.
He sat on the next stone bench a few feet from her.
"What are you looking at?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Nothing really. The sky, the lawn, the flags."
He nodded. "Acknowledging their presence. I see."
What an odd way to put it. "Sure."
After a moment he spoke again. "That cloud looks like a turtle."
"No, it doesn't."
"Sure it does. That big part is obviously the shell and those little tufts sticking out at the bottom are the head and legs."
"Oh," she said, "I see it now."
"Did you know that turtles could live up to a hundred-fifty years old?"
"Yeah, I knew that."
"Can you imagine that? Living up to a hundred years? What would you do?"
She gave it some thought. "Well, the short answer is that I'd do what I have to do. You know, do my job, be nice to people, do the right things --all that stuff."
"You don't sound very excited."
"Not much to be excited about, really. It's my life, sure, but it's driven by circumstance. Even if I knew what makes me happy, that doesn't mean I'll get it. I don't need a hundred and fifty years."
"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" A pause. "So you mentioned your job, people and the right things." He looked thoughtful. "How do you feel about your job?"
"It's fine."
"Just fine?"
"Yeah."
"But you're not happy?"
"Honestly, I don't need to be happy at work. I just need it to be tolerable. Pays well."
"Okay, so we agree that your job does not define your happiness?"
Silence. Then, "Yes."
"All right. What about people? Family and friends? I imagine they drive you crazy."
"You don't know the half of it."
"But you're still with them?"
"Well yeah, I still care about them."
"Even if they make you unhappy?"
Silence again. Then, "I'm not unhappy all the time."
"So we agree that you choose to surround yourself with these people."
"Yes."
"So it's not that bad, right?"
"I wouldn't abandon them, if that's what you mean."
"I think that's precisely what I mean." He smiled.
"I guess that only leaves the right things?" she asked.
"What can you tell me about that?"
"Not much. I try to do right by everyone. Even strangers. I wouldn't hand drugs to a kid nor would I actually put out a hit on a person. I won't stop joking about it, though. I wouldn't slander anyone. I wouldn't orchestrate a Ponzi scheme. I'm not a bully. I'm not a slacker. I don't litter, I don't steal and I don't lie."
"You don't lie?" He raised an eyebrow as if to challenge her presence here on a work day.
"Not out of malice. I have a conscious effort to do right by people."
"Well, that's really all you need right?"
"I guess." She sighed. "I suppose what you're trying to tell me is that I have a pretty good life."
"No, you told me that. I just reminded you."
"Still sounds like a so-so life, not exactly a happy one."
"Not yet. You haven't covered everything."
"I haven't?"
"What of love?"
"What about it?"
"Where does that fit in?"
"Search me."
"You need love to be happy."
"Oh please."
"Hold on. I could already tell you were a cynic by the way you were sitting out here but hear me out."
How was I sitting? she wondered.
"Many years ago," he began, "the world was a mess. No peace, no order. Families and friends were torn apart and everyone was fighting. You couldn't tell who was right or wrong. Just a bunch of young men acting on orders from older, powerful men with skewed sets of beliefs."
He looked at her and she noticed that he wasn't that young-looking after all.
"There were thousands of soldiers going through all sorts of hell. The only thing they had to hold on to were letters from home. Happy letters, hopeful letters, even sad letters and Dear John letters. Why? Because it reminded them of the lives they wanted to get back to. Trust me, if you're under enemy fire, you're not thinking about of defeating them, you're thinking about how horrible it would be if folks back home had to go to your funeral.
"When those thoughts run through your heard, you will get a feverish need to tell people that you love them. Am I talking about family? Of course. But allow me to be sentimental and refer to that other kind of love. The kind that you have for only one person. You'd die for her, live for her, do things you didn't know you could do for her. And there would be a sort of clawing at your heart if you haven't felt that yet. I'd call you young and you should wait for your turn. I hope you live long enough."
He gave a rueful laugh. "I'm rambling. But the point is, young lady, if you think your life is just so-so, then I advise you to love. I'm not saying fall stupid in love and make bad decisions, but when you feel ready and sure, do not hold back. There's a clarity there and a powerful force behind it."
"You fell very hard, didn't you?" Mattie asked.
"I did and I told her so."
"What happened?"
"Doesn't matter. What you should take from that is that I told her so. If you love someone, you tell them, or else they'll never know."
"But what if he doesn't love you back?"
"Doesn't matter. 'Even a one-sided love is complete in itself.' If you're going to wallow in the loss, I think you still have some growing up to do. You don't love someone because he loves you too. You love someone simply because you do."
A purple haze was stretching across the sky. The day would end soon.
The fair, young gentleman stood up. "I should be going. You still have a little time before the park closes. I'll leave you to your thoughts."
He smiled and held out his hand. "My name is Jimmy. I enjoyed our conversation."
She took his hand and smiled back. "Mattie. Thanks, it was great talking to you too."
He left the same way he arrived and disappeared behind the pillars.
She looked back at the bench where he had sat. Behind him was a wall into which was carved the names of the soldiers long gone but not forgotten. Right there, plain as day: 1LT James R. Conroy.
Mattie stared back up the sky. The setting sun cast a warm glow over her. She felt much better than she had this morning and she honestly believed that tomorrow was going to be a good day.
Triggered by the American Cemetery, which I pass everyday on my way to work. Anyway, I should say that I'm not trying to be preachy. I just thought that if I could talk to ghosts they'd tell me something like this.
"Even a one-sided love is complete in itself." is from the film Heavenly Forest (2006)