Yet Again

the phone

rings.

(silence)

are you there? i ask.

(silence)

people hurt? i ask.

(voice small)

another blackout. you know what that means.

small. voice. few. words.

are you ok? i ask. urgently.

yes.

people didn’t walk away?

oh, momma, families won’t even get bodies.

outside the wire. pieces. they were picking up pieces. hours. it took hours to process the site.

hours.

the families.

the families. they are the ones. feel sorry for them.

it was catastrophic.

a terrible day.

i lost my composure

four separate times.

i felt bad.

Listen, i said … though i wonder now whether or not it might have better been left to silence. you are supposed to lose your composure. it is supposed to work like that. feel bad, i said. feel worse when the day comes and you don't lose your composure.
(shouting inside. swearing inside.)

(tears. maybe tears. hesitation.)

i thought so hard about this.

i tried to carry it.

i needed to call home.

is that ok?

my head hurts so hard.

my body is screaming.

(silence)

Randy and Yvonne sent me a Christmas tree, mom.

six more weeks, i say to myself.

maybe eight.

(quiet. too quiet.)

speed the day.

momma?

yes. i'm here.

technorati tags: war, Iraq, Tommi