I always Knew it was real, that some people faked it, that some didn't. But that's all I ever had to go by. What I Knew in my heart. And while I still can only say that I know in my heart there are people who fake it, I now have the pleasure of being one of the one's that didn't. And I now Know it to be real.
For the past 14 days I have replayed over and over and Over the experience I waited so long for that finally did happen. But no matter what I do I can't seem to remake into reality this dream of mine that came true. It is surreal. It is mind-blowing. And what I felt, no matter how much I re-imagine it, cannot be properly reintroduced to me or anyone else by my futile words and visual memory. But the Effort is worth it. And so that's why I'm here. To Share.
"We're in the meeting room, does anyone want to come?" She'd just walked into our bunked-bed room, our living quarters for the past 2 and a half days. There were at least 8 of the bunk-beds within its painfully cramped rectangular shaped walls. However, a few of the other girls still managed to take advantage of the narrow space between the two parallel sections of beds stacked and lined on either wall of the rectangular room. They were standing, chatting. "No, it's okay" I heard one of them say. The rest of them conceded. I don't remember that any one of them actually asked what was going on in the meeting room.
But maybe I missed that.
I, myself, was standing at the sink preparing to refresh my tired skin and mouth. I had been pondering if it was worth my time to shower, as I was feeling quite lazy and wanted to rest up a bit before we hit the road again back to Atlanta. We had just come from the meeting room, then on to a tasty Brazilian dinner in the dining room less than 45 minutes ago it seemed. And I was tired out from my efforts to make happen what I just couldn't seem to do. But not for one second did I stop thinking about what I Could have accomplished there. Not for one second was I ready to have left the meeting room. And if I couldn't experience for myself what many of the others were, I was absolutely content to simply watch and be happy for those who did, amazed by the surreal nature of it all.
"So what are you guys doing in there?" I asked, toothbrush in hand. I immediately conceded to meet up with her and the others in the meeting room once she told me.
But she didn't have to.
I’d already noticed when she first walked into the room how her incredibly fair skin had developed the slightest tint of tan orange. I’d seen how her face was flushed. I’d seen how her long, waist length hair was unraveled and sprawling, in need of being reordered into the single hair tie for which the rest of her hair desperately struggled to stay inside. I’d seen the excitement in her eyes, heard it in the way she’d opened the door, noticed it in the way she’d come into the room unable to stand still, caught it for myself in the way her body involuntarily trembled every few seconds, in the way her speech was hard to come out, in the way she inadvertently made the “S” sound as if shivering from the cold.
It is what always happened whenever she got This Way. I’d seen it many times.
But I must admit, although I wanted to be a part of what was going on in the meeting room, I was horribly scared. What If I couldn’t perform???
(to be continued...part 2)
