Too Real
my brother was hit by a car on thursday. his girlfriend, lea, called me from the ambulance. at General, when i got to see him in the trauma center, his face was caked with blood. and making jokes with the nurse, i scrubbed the blood off my brother's face.
there were a lot of static-filled cellular calls to Jersey, where my parents were, and to Burlingame, where my sister was. and lots of x-rays and cat scans and back and forths with this nurse or that doctor. lev was in a lot of pain, but in good spirits. i left around eleven, took a long shower and fell into bed.
the next morning i realized that my little brother almost died. that i was scrubbing the blood off his face, which is so similar to my face. and at work, preparing for the conference and proofing contracts and planning dinner menus, i kept thinking; what if he hadn't been wearing his helmet? or what if it had been me? if i was lying on the pavement with blood on my face and my pelvis broken, who would i call?
i'm getting older. i see my friend bahati passing out fliers for her show and realize that it's a real show. that she's a real director and works with real actors and people will be glad to see her work. that my friend just had a baby; a newborn little girl out of her womb, in her arms. that my friend's break-up, take your pick which one, might as well be divorce. that the movie sean and ted are in florida making is a real movie, with actors you know. that we're not a bunch of punk kids making noise and acting out. we're adults and this is as real as it's ever going to get. the training wheels are off.
my little brother almost got killed by a distracted driver in a mini-van. that sure makes things stand out in clear relief; what's important. who i love. what i need in my life. and all i can do with that information is put it back in my pocket and keep on trying as hard as i have been to treat the important things with respect, to love whom i love, and to find a way to be with what i need.
happy birthday to me.
