dressing up, she spoke to me and said,
“what did you do the whole time you were sick?”
“I didn’t do much,” I said.
“I was pretty depressed, and
saw little value in going forward as
a damaged sort of man.”
“damaged?”
“yeah, i had lost significant
brain capacity from seizures, and
everything had slowed down for me,
mentally. being quick was always
kind of who i was, and it felt like,
i wasn’t… anyone anymore.”
she looked at me, through the
darkened room,
so lovely in her black dress, just…
waiting
“i’ve never really talked about
that time. it’s very hard to
relive, hard to come to grips with.
but, it’s what happened.”
“how did you get out of it?
the depression?”
“medicine. therapy. friends.
family. faith. activity.
one minute at a time.”
we gazed at each other for
about forty silent seconds
“this seems like a strange
topic to be getting into before
a date…”
“not really. it’s a big deal to a girl
when the guy she’s falling for is…
real with her.”
“my reality, huh.
i never saw it as having..
value, i guess”
