Paid In Full

I liked to think that I knew more about the weather than the rest of them. I had a sixth sense about these things and could always recognize the calm before the storm before it became just that. I would sit perched at the window of my bedroom and smile at the clouds forming deep in the distance, way out there, beyond where anyone else could see.

These were the best days, full of conversation over falsehoods and fears. We were playing the greatest game of tug of war. Because no one out there missed us or longed for us, it was always a surprise when we showed our face. I liked to think I was just like those clouds, vulnerable, and easily targeted as a menace to society and that I would be eternally misunderstood.

There was something accessible about vulnerability. It was not out of default or because you opened your mouth or made a noise signaling that unfortunate disposition, but rather it was an instant and subtle admission of compassion.

They would roll themselves out flat and stratus. When I was little, I was certain that he used a rolling pin just like the wooden one that belonged to my mother. In my mind, even the souring of the weather was just that simple.

The rumble of the thunder was oddly calming but only if it woke me out of my sleep. Most people would say that in the darkness, this phenomenon of nature would have been all the more offputting. These people were wrong. In fact, the ambiguity was all encompassing, asking us to sit up and listen to all the things that were just out of our reach.

You were just the little girl tugging on my skirt asking for some acknowledgement.

That's all we ever wanted from each other anyway, right? Attention. And after that, despite you looking over my shoulder all the time, I liked to believe that I enjoyed the peace and quiet that came with making split decisions.