Serenity’s Soul
February 6, 2010
Dear Serenity’s Soul,
I could hear a rather disturbing commotion in my sleep. At first the noise was muffled words, but as I began to wake up more and more, I could hear them clearly.
“Maybe we should take her to the hospital.”
“I don’t need a doctor!”
“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt just to have the doctor look at her.”
“CAN’T YOU PEOPLE HEAR!? STOP TALKING ABOUT ME LIKE I’M NOT HERE! I TOLD YOU THAT I DON’T NEED A DOCTOR!”
Then for a moment, it was silent. Suddenly, I heard Francis speak. “Well, all right. You know your body better than any of us. Would you like a nice soft bed to rest yourself on?”
“Yeah—yeah, a bed. That would be nice.”
I heard some people moving around, and then there was a knock on my door.
“Yes?” I asked.
The door opened and Francis was standing there. “Since your mother is not here right now, there’s a girl here and she needs a bed. We don’t know her name or anything about her but that she’s just here. Will you share your room?”
I hesitated a bit. “Yeah, tell her to come in.”
Francis turned around and motioned for the girl to come. “Come in, Sweety.”
Slowly, a frail, skinny girl with long brown hair and pale skin entered my room with a little bag. When she was fully in the room, she just stood there and looked around. Francis quietly shut the door. It was just me and this stranger. She slowly sat down on the bed, and I sat up on the side of mine. She cradled her bag, and rocked back and forth with her head down. She wore a red shirt, covered by a little black sweater, a little black skirt, and tall black boots. I had seen this look before, but knew that despite wherever she came from—she was a human being in pain, and I knew about pain.
“My name is Monica.” I said in a soft voice.
She didn’t say anything back. I didn’t know what to do. I saw Mocha staring at her from the corner of the room.
“And that’s Mocha. She is my dog.”
It was still silent, until she finally spoke in such a cold and sad voice. She kept her head down as she said, “I had a dog once. Pinkie was her name. She was some stray little dog. Had to give her up.”
I looked back at Mocha knowing within myself that there wasn’t a way I could ever give her up, so I knew the girl was hurt. I never had to comfort anyone before, so I didn’t know what to say to this….stranger, but I am beginning to learn that in life, even if you do not know quite how to do something, if you’re supposed to do it…you will. Something happened that allowed me the chance to step outside of myself.
The stranger looked up at me. Her eyes were green but dark with sorrow. Mascara was smeared across her face, as if tears mixed in with it and when she cried her face became a mess.
Yes, she looked at me—straight in my eyes and said “I am Stacey. Stacey McDaniel. Did you say your name is Monica?”
“Yeah, Monica Corbin.”
“Well, Monica Corbin, have you been here long?”
“Um, no, not really.”
“Are you running away from something?”
Her question stunned me. “N—no, not really running away, but just trying to find out who I am.”
She giggled a bit. “Trying to find out who you are? I did that once and I ended up stuck on the streets working them day and night like some messed up fool life chewed up and spit back out.”
I just stared at her in silence, but she kept going—kept talking aimlessly, not really making sense.
“You think you’re going somewhere, but no—no, you’re going nowhere. Life has its people that it loves and its people that it hates, and you know, it hates me. And look at you, you’re here too…and you’re here because life hates you too!”
Then there was this scary silence. I wanted to reach out to her, but the look in her eyes would never accept such an embrace.
I could only say, “I am here because….because I love life enough to keep on going, and believe it or not, that’s why you’re here too, Stacey.”
Her stare only got colder. “Oh, how wise you are. HOW WISE YOU ARE!”
Then she laughed at me. “I wasn’t trying to be wise, I was just trying to kind of help you.”
“Do you really think you can help me? Look at me! I am nobody….Nobody!”
Her words triggered a memory that sent my mind back to what Francis told me the night my mother and I arrived. I thought that perhaps she should hear it too.
“But you are someone. Inside of you is such power that you just haven’t discovered yet. Your power is in your heart and your soul, and you have the strength to overcome obstacles that would mistake you as being weak. You have the courage to believe that love is alive when it seems that love has died and was buried a long time ago. Love lives in you. Beauty lives in you…”
“STOP! JUST STOP OKAY!?” She shouted angrily at me. “The lady asked me if I wanted a soft bed, not some stupid speech. Spare me.”
The words worked with me. How come they didn’t work with her? I left her alone…all day long, I just left her to herself. She slept all day long. She didn’t eat anything, she just laid there on that bed either sleeping or staring off into the darkness. She’s sleeping now and I wonder--
Why did she even have to come into my life?
Good night,
Monica
