Missing the Point

Just a silly little viewpoint exercise.  A word is a word.  
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She glanced away from me and let her sleek auburn hair curtain her expression.  

It is often a wall that separates things.  Take the Great Wall of China or Hadrian’s Wall.  Other times just a curtain can be a powerful dividing line.  Take the curtain between the Holy and Most Holy.  Or the one behind which the Wizard of Oz hid.

I’m feeling a lot like the wizard, my world going up in smoke and mirrors.  Wanting to make sure this worked out for the best in all of us, but not being equal to the task.  

“If you can’t talk to me, who would you like to talk to.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Why?”

“I have nothing to say.  No one has anything real to say. The talking’s been done; only the doing is left, sounds like.”

“Effective action comes from talking. Communication produces coordinated action.  Armies can’t waltz out on the field willy-nilly and expect anything good to come of it.”

“This isn’t a war, Mom.” I recognized the sarcasm in her tone.  It was indeed a war in her eyes, a war of self-preservation that didn’t need to be waged.  If only I could make her understand that.

“Well, of course it’s not.  It was just an illustration and you’re missing the point.  Communication and action together can produce powerful results.”





Sandra let the warmth of her hair cover her cheek as she turned away from her mother’s look that bore down on her in determination.  It was odd that while that kind of fire should produce warmth, it came across so cold.  There was more comfort in the weight of her hair against her cheek that let her hide for just a moment.  

“If you can’t talk to me, whom would you like to talk to?” she asked.

“I don’t want to talk,” Sandra replied.  I want you to hold me.  I want you to tell me that everything will be all right, and that I can always come here for what I need. That you aren’t going to change into someone I don’t know.

“Why?” her mother asked instead.

“I have nothing to say.  No one has anything real to say. The talking’s been done; only the doing is left, sounds like.” Sandra focused on the tree outside her window.  It was a small oak; she’d watched it grow.  In the summer and the fall it was quite lovely.  But now the leaves had turned a dull cinnamon yet adamantly refused to fall.  They twisted and argued with the north wind.  It all seemed so futile. Holding on.  

“Effective action comes from talking. Communication produces coordinated action.  Armies can’t waltz out on the field willy-nilly and expect anything good to come of it.”

“This isn’t a war, Mom.” But was it an apt comparison.  In a nutshell it described what life was going to be like now.  Yours, mine and our war for peace.

“Well, of course it’s not.  It was just an illustration and you’re missing the point.  Communication and action together can produce powerful results.”