Picture Paints Thousand Words
from brain-damaged news
I don’t know who’s here because they fell off the wagon or slid off a scaffold or tripped an IED in Iraq. Perhaps we served our country or pizza, pitched ball, patched roads. Perhaps we were bakers or builders or preachers or teachers or sat on a wall and had a great fall.
Now we’re in B.I.G., otherwise known as Brain Injury Group. Sometimes we have a vague notion of how it felt to write or dance or bake or bike or hike or tend a rose or swing a bat or catch the breeze off a beach. Other times we don’t know the names of our kids.
We acquired a new accidental brain – the brain that results from the accident or domestic dispute or dive or drive or forklift or war. That’s why we’re in Brain Injury Group where we build new minds and lives with leftover parts from yesterday’s brain. You know, cells, synapses and soul.
A board on the wall says:
The day is (blank)
The month is (blank)
The year is (blank)
The next holiday is (blank)
Sometimes someone fills in the blanks.
The weather report also remains the same almost every day: little suns somewhere and little clouds somewhere else.
Maybe the board should say:
Let it hurt. Then let it go.
Sometimes I just look at walls. There are sweet touches here and there like you might see in a cutesy family drama, minus the cute and the family.
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