I remember sitting tied to a large white circle as a small child—the toilet. My siblings still deny it. Needing relief, I struggled mightily for freedom. What did I do? I’m not sure. I was probably willing. It may have even been my idea. I remember a single drop of blood rolling down my arm. A scar on my wrist where the rope burned through my skin proves the event. Boys will be boys.
That vague day filed deep within my mind resurfaces each time I again become intimate with the great white circle. Now, I see this seemingly insignificant childhood memory as an obvious warning. A higher power foreshadowing my future with bizarre and cruel humor. Aha, even He uses bathroom humor. Hindsight is 20/20.
I don’t recall if I was playing Nephi tied up to prophecy or Dexter’s next victim ready to die. I do know, however, that life is not a circle—not my life. My life is a satire. And today, pain and happiness swirl with every lavatory visit. Happiness is not an easy choice. Untie me, please.
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