I believe in betrayal.
I believe in the little girl who can’t quite break into the whirl of a jumprope because her leg is forever mangled in a shiny silver brace, in the twenty eight year old man who hates the staunch stench of the sanitized cafeteria, and in trust. Trust that the metallic smelling metal on her leg will be snapped away as she lunges into the blur of multicolored rope. Trust that my brother will find inner peace amongst the fragile crackling sound of the creased napkins surrounding him.Trust that if I can make that snickering, taunting shadow in my closet into a monster, I’ll discover it’s only my old musty sweater-that it was never as bad as I made it out to be. I trust in my conviction, and I am rooted in the belief that I will never betray my own trust…
I’d love to sit here and write some witty fantasism about the development of my belief, of my core-of me. I’d love to go out and be able to sketch the veins of the fall leaves in my front yard. I’d love to be able to say I know how to swim like Phelps, that I can run like Powell and that I can skate like Kwann. But alas, I cannot. It’d be a lie, a false pretense, and I’m not fond of those. They leave my mind to wander down the alleys of my memories, to ponder and ask “What if?”….”Why not…?”. The twists and turns betray my sense of direction in life.
I can, however, tell you that Waldo is peeking out from behind that old lady with her shopping cart full of celery, tie a Twizzler in a knot with my mouth closed, and make you laugh and forget your sorrows for another day. Wipe away the cobwebs of pretense and pressure to show you the gleaming shine of your true self, cunningly hidden behind the layers of dust and mouldy grime. The glimmer of hope they never told you was there.
I can tell you about the time my sister told me what the word, “smart” meant, and how my pink little four-year-old face shyly revealed a pair of bright brown eyes smiling back at her from underneath the safety of my mother’s quilt, disbelieving I really “knew EVERYTHING”, but jealous of the side that believed it to be true. I can tell you that I am going to learn how save you when you’re lost amongst the rudely imposing figures of branches and snow in my Civil Air Patrol meetings.
I can tell you that I can and I will, because in all honesty I was the crippled girl’s only friend. I saw my brother for the first time in eight years on the eleven o’clock news report. Nothing was ever as bad as I trusted it would be because I believed that I’d betray myself, and that is the most comforting thought in the world.