by Lisa

I plot as I drive in my car to a doctor appointment.  Next time, I’ll be prepared.  I’ll be armed.  I’ll align the Louisville Slugger neatly against a skull,  pepper spray into a face, a bullet in a  belly…but I only have the baseball bat and pepper spray, and it wasn’t in my hand as I walked through my open door.  Anger swells; I see blood splashing on the wall, and it’s not mine.  Next time, I’ll stay.  I’ll defend and not run.  I’ll apprehend and punish.  I’ll avenge.

Pacifism comes naturally to me, but someone has violated my peace.

To stay where I am requires translating the violation into strength of will.  Break into my home, break my things, take my things, but prepare for consequences. Right now, I step over piles of things not in their right places, but soon, I’ll gather the will to put everything where it belongs again.  Soon, I’ll be back.  Soon, I’ll heal, and the cracks will fill with stronger stuff, like a reossified scar deep in a bone.

And my eyes are open.  My ears are open.  My whole world watches the door, waiting.  The ones who smashed watch, too.

I slipped over to the shelter to meet big dogs.  The theory: big dog, barking now and then, making regular appearances in the yard would have warded off the incident.  Small woman, big dog, less of a bulls-eye.

Really, the dog would have been with me wherever I was when the fools busted up my house.

Even if I had a cat, it would have been with me, or a victim.

Damn, I had not intended to use that ugly word at all, ever ever ever.  A bad thing happened in my home, and repairs are necessary.  Changes are necessary.

When the anger subsides, what will replace it?  Fury moves too unsteadily to suit my personality, and I know that it’s very temporary.  Fear only spurs me to be better armed for the next go-round.  I do not slosh in accordance to any messy emotion for long.  Too much shifting sand sends me in search of solid ground, even if the only place to land is that boulder in the middle of the river.  Let the current do what it will.

I am changed, but to what, I don’t need to know.  Something better has arrived.