How Sweet It Is - Alice J. Wisler [41]
After he leaves, I do two things. First, I check the back of the peanut butter jar for its list of ingredients. Reading the fine print, I see the line: Made with saturated oil. Jonas was right; he did taste oil in the peanut soup. Next, I find the Dr. Seuss book, sit on the couch, and start to read. Congratulations! Today is your day. A smile finds me as I realize that this is where Jonas got his line that he sang to me. The book is written to the reader, telling him or her that she will have good days and bad days, lonely times and happy ones. The end does tell me that I will succeed and move mountains.
The despair that came over me shortly after I was discharged from the hospital starts to creep in again. I feel it in my fingertips as I slip Oh, the Places You’ll Go back onto the shelf. I make sure to place it exactly where Jonas put it, right between a dark leather-bound book and a book on the Roman Empire. The leather-bound book is a Bible. I ease it from the shelf and recall with sweet nostalgia how I faithfully read my NIV Bible every night when I was about twenty. Then one day, life got busy and I became content with that. Bible reading began to be reserved for church services only. I was dating Lucas and…
Forcing thoughts of Lucas from my mind, I consider the lines in Grandpa’s letter. “Trust God. Put your whole hand in His, not just one finger or two. Get to know the feel of your hand in His.”
I open the Bible, clearly one my grandfather read often, for many of the verses are underlined with pen. Familiar passages leap out at me, verses my own parents read to me from the family Bible. The pages smell like firewood and damp earth. Soon I’m curled on the couch with the quilt over me, absorbing passages from the New Testament. I read about the withered fig tree in Mark and the feeding of the five thousand. Turning over to Galatians, I read and reread the fruit-of-the-Spirit verses. In Ephesians, I see the command to get rid of malice and anger. My stomach twists, I pull the quilt tighter around my shoulders and then glide over that verse.
Eventually, the stars light up the sky and I lie on the couch, gazing at them through the glass in the A-frame ceiling. Again they seem so close, like I could reach out and latch onto one if I only lifted my arm.
Hungry, I heat up some more soup, look again for the raccoon bowl and, not finding it in any of the cupboards, ladle my dinner into the mug with the bear.
Oil. I can’t taste any oil. However, the peanut flavor is pronounced. Complimented by the fresh parsley, it does pique my taste buds.
————
I wake after midnight to the lullaby of the singing owl and feel as though my heart will break from pain. Sally would say that, medically, such a thing is impossible. Yet I wonder, has she ever felt what I am experiencing now? Sally has had men become friends, then boyfriends, and then, it always ends after a few months. She claims she hasn’t met that Special One yet. She pictures the scene, though. He’ll walk into the clinic with a large German shepherd and smile into her eyes as she asks, “What’s wrong with this sweet doggie?” She will examine the dog as Mr. Owner stands nearby. He’ll ask her out—eventually. He’ll be as much of a dog lover as she is and they will live happily ever after in a secluded house with a fireplace and at least ten pets.
Sally doesn’t know this pain I feel. But Jeannie likely does. She’s been married, and then disappointed.
All day yesterday I wondered why the ache was so large and pronounced. This isn’t just heartache. This is consuming, relentless pounding, even when I don’t think it’s there. This is the horned monster—anger.
If I want to stop living off Extra Strength Tylenol, I need to learn how to deal with this fierce emotion a lot better than I have been. But how do I do that? Anger has embedded itself into the crevices of my heart. I feel