There is a moment, a second, a glimmer of a tiny bit of time that is so fleeting, you may not know it when it is yours to grasp. I am convinced that every person on this earth has this moment. If they are blessed, they know this moment, own it, understand it, and then grasp it as hard as they can, and they never let go. If they are both blessed and insightful, they know that these times sometimes come more than once in a lifetime, and they respect these times, each and every time.
If a person is cursed, this is the moment that taunts them, lulls them, and then smacks them square on the cheek, no matter how they turn it. If they are cursed, this is the moment that makes them wonder how far back they need to go in order to right all the wrongs they have wrought.
If a person straddles the world of limbo, they face both opportunity and a last chance–and in this limbo world, they know exactly what it means to teeter between being cursed and being adored, even when they know they don’t deserve the limbo that delivers naught. They know limbo never leads to anything completely good and, happily, nothing so very terrible. They know, however, that limbo never leads to a conclusive answer, which could potentially be better than a final answer, because at least you don’t know.
The boy I had hoped would remain a friend, is not. I learned this for once and for all on this night, his birthday, when I stopped by his restaurant to simply wish him well. The anger and hostility carefully cloaked in indifference, none of which I pretend to understand and all of which make me want to scream and sob, was all too prevalent, all too reminiscent of why we will never be friends again. At least I think that’s what is what. But that’s limbo for you. You never really know.
My daughter’s dog was very ill on this night. She has no money to pay for his medical expenses. Neither do I. But I do have a MasterCard with a so-so limit that I haven’t yet reached. My daughter’s dog lives tonight because I have a credit card that allows my daughter to save her dog tonight rather than wait for tomorrow, when it would have been too late. “I will pay you back, I swear,” she tells me. I tell her not to worry. Her dog is saved, right? No limbo about that.
Something is up at work that made me offer, without question, to work an extra shift tomorrow. This, even as I booked one too many private dinners this week. This, even though booking too many private dinners hosted by mostly loathsome characters is something I do every week. I can’t do it right. I usually do it wrong, but never enough wrong to be truly chastised for it. Only enough wrong to sense that what I do, the role I play, the sum total of what I accomplish is more wrong than right.
But I am doing my job as I think I should do it. So I just keep doing it. And as I do my job, I sink down further every day into the reality that I create more problems than more revenue will ever compensate for. Yeah, limbo sucks. But so does a very apparent here and now.
I miss my friends. I miss my kids. I miss so much. I miss it all. So very, very much.
But something I cannot define is still left undone here. Something I can almost feel, something I can almost see, but something I cannot quite make out, is hovering on a blurred horizon that no one–certainly not me–can decipher. Tears don’t wash the uncertainty away. Yet, fragile friendships forged only very recently cause tears to flow at the vague thought of unfulfilled closeness.
I am so done with the tears. I am so over the tears. And still the tears come.
In limbo, who the hell knows what is next? But you don’t ask that aloud, you don’t even think it. Because the answer might just be hell.
But that’s limbo for you. Who the hell knows?