Perspective

I dreamed a devilish little man came and stole my breath. He stepped through the door with a skin bag strung limp over his shoulder and with dispassionate efficiency crouched back and slugged me in the stomach. Such an incredulous exhale! And so complete; not a wisp of air remained. In that agonized vacuum I rolled my eyes upward and beheld the stranger tying up the bag with a leather thong. He had the opening squeezed shut in one fist and was throwing half-hitches around it and yanking them tight. Now the skin bag was stretched and seamed. It was barrel-sized and taut as a blimp. Inside it was all my breath. The little man crouched again and looked at me closely. He was a pale one, a horror... When he straightened and went out the door with the taut bag on his shoulder, I saw that my breath was gone. Anyone would panic. I thrashed and lurched and arched my back. On waking I saw Dad kneeling bedside, holding my upper arms; I heard Swede crying distantly; someone I couldn't see was thumping my back. I'd never felt such thumps; they were like car wrecks. But I got a little breath back, and with each painful thump a little more. Confused, still afraid of the man with the skin bag, I tried to tear loose; in my perplexity I thought it might be he who was socking my back. You don't emerge from these episodes thinking clearly... Dad continued to hold me in place. It was a joyous bruising that bit by bit knocked glue from my lungs. I pictured it coming away in globs...

Next morning all geography lay snowbound... Swede's bed was empty. I hollered for her even while realizing the whole house sounded empty. Crossing the hall into Dad's room I heard muffled scrapings and ran to the window. Sure enough, all three of them were out back... Dad and Roxanna were clearing a wide path to the barn. They were just finishing. Now Roxanna and Swede were heaving at the big square barn door, trying to slide it open.

"Wait" I yelled--I ran to my room, hooked my pants and shirt, ran back to the window where I could watch them while I dressed--"Wait for me!" I banged on the glass, but they couldn't hear. I shouted again: "Wait up!" What were they doing out there in the new snow without me? What a rotten deal! Then surprise, I had to lean quick on the windowsill. All that yelling had used up my air... Outside I heard the barn door screel open, and Swede's outcry of wonder and pleasure, and Roxanna laughing. I tell you no one ever felt sorrier for their sorry lot than I for mine there in that empty house. I crawled back in bed under the weight of the sun and joy and adventure happening outdoors, and I thought dangerous things to myself. Back to mind came every hurt I'd endured for my defect, every awaited thing I'd missed. It seemed that I'd been left alone here by the callousness of my family; that should the man with the skin bag return I might not fight so hard next time; that this house was so empty even God was not inside it. He was out there with the others having fun.

Peace Like A River, Leif Enger

This description of a nighttime asthma attack was so similar to my current struggle with being unemployed that it took me by surprise as I read it. At times it really does feel as if the wind has been knocked out of me. It gives a good description of the fear of the unknown that exists even as others come along side of me in my pain and of my feelings of aloneness or of being on the outside that I often feel as I walk this path.

I really understood how easily he twisted the genuineness of his families concern for his situation and his own revengeful thoughts toward them. It really does a great job describing many of the ways that I am feeling right now, including the fact that I often speak out of what feels like justified anger.