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Sally
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Sally With her green bike, and her collection of plastic bags, Sally stood at the bus station, muttering to herself about the German Army, secretly her protectors, coming to whisk her away. I overheard her and knew she was paranoid schizophrenic. But I wanted to brighten her day a bit. I walked over and introduced myself and told her she was a really clever story-teller. I told her I like to write stories, too. If you are the right age for me, you probably remember Mr. Rogers and the Land of Make-Believe. Sally is in that world all the time. But I want to ride the trolley in so I can make her version of the story happier. Will I see her again? If I do, I will surely highlight her talented imagination. I might even ask her to pretend with me. She would like that. But what would we pretend? Waive to the trolley as it enters the Land of Make-Believe. We would pretend to be normal. We could pretend I had a crush on her. I would ask her out for pizza. She would step back, awestruck. I would hold my breath, waiting for her to respond. It doesn't matter to me that she is mentally ill. If she said yes, I would smile with reckless abandon and give her a triumpant hug. We would walk to the pizza place together, eat, and walk back. How thankful do you think she would be for that? I want to enter her world just enough to give her an afternoon off of her usual fiction. I know we would only be pretending, but the thought is genuine, and the pizza is unforgettable. ~always one of a kind~ *Jon* |
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