Coping

I’ve been thinking a lot.

About my friend’s new puppy. And the dark shadow that prevents her from feeling safe by herself. She cuddles this baby thing, gives him a name. Would he have found his mother if not for the trauma that prefaced his arrival in her life? She tells me his name over screens. I haven’t seen her in years, still don’t. Her screen is off. The only animation comes from my own camera, talking back to me.

“Do you know what happened?” She asks. I assure her I do. I wish to spare her the details, the trip back to those moments in her life that altered it forever. My eyes well with tears when I hear her own voice break. A pain I could never understand no matter how desperately I wished to.

Her camera turns on to reveal her new baby. He sleeps, unaware, between her blankets and pillows. I coo at him, call him adorable. She turns the camera off again.

I cannot help but wonder at the way this world works. Pain finds us time and time again in ways that feel so constant, so sure. I grew up knowing the world had a master, knowing that all trials came to us with an intention behind them. The lessons are there. They have to be there.

900 Russians die in a day. On the frontlines. Away from home. Thousands of Ukrainians join them in the dirt. Dead and gone. All for some gasoline.

I think of the puppy. I hope for the lessons. Soon.

Soon soon soon.