I want to tell you about how interesting it is to find old bits of pretty, weathered glass in the dirt through out the garden area. It makes me curious about what the previous owners used this space for. Did they decorate in delicate wind chimes that slowly broke through the years and were just raked into the dirt? Or did they use this back space of the yard as a dump for broken things that just slowly broke down even more overtime until they became what they are now, bits of random rubble to be discovered every time I go to plant.
I want to write about those thoughts . . . but I can't. Because now I can't get her out of my head. Her. The girl I had to meet with today. The girl that for the past month and half has been nothing more than a filed away client, frustrating me to no ends by never answering the packet of questions I've mailed three times and instead sending me a barrage of random whiny letters from jail.
Her. The girl who was on my mind nonstop driving back to town today.
Finally sitting down across from her earlier this afternoon, ready to hammer home all the reasons she needs to stop being difficult with her attorney and get with the program, I couldn't help but see someone I thought I knew. Of course she wasn't anyone I've really ever known, but she still seemed familiar in a way. Just a few months older than I, she was the same height, the same hair, the same face shape, the same frame, almost everything - it was weird - only she looked like she had lived ten more years than me. And was on the other side of the glass.
Her skin was weathered more than any other 29 year old's I had seen. Not from sun, but from a hard life. You know what I mean, the way it just looks dull and rough, basically as if it had always been the last priority in the world. Her hair was also dulled and drab, hanging limp around a face that at one time was likely quite pretty. But now her skin told another tale as well, one that breaks my heart to recognize, but is a harsh reality these days. Drugs just have a distinctive way of sticking with people, and pock marks and hollowed sagging faces are hard to undo.
Upon entering the room I could sense her hostility, but just as my demeanor changed once I recognized something familiar in her, it seemed as if she recognized the same in me. And we visited. Despite having a very thorough list of questions and background information that I go through with most every client, today, I actually added even more questions. Because I needed the answer to the one burning in the back of my heart; why was she here? How did it come to this for her?
Driving home today I couldn't help but wonder about redemption. About people who have gone so far off their planned path to the point they are just wandering aimlessly. About the people who feel like they are in that haze of not knowing what is up and what is down. The people who feel so lost they give up and give in. And I wonder about what took them there, what terrible things happened in their life that led them to that point, or what impacted them so much they caved under pressure. One of my favorite songs is Wade Bowen's "Lost Hotel" - the lyrics are haunting and so true. Because most everyone has had breaking points, everyone has faced choices and for the fortunate ones, it was a matter of a friend or a loved one who pulled us through or else we could have lost. But some people didn't have that person to help them through. Some people, were just 15 with no one at home encouraging them to do something more, or to stop what they were getting in to.
And then I wonder about what those same people were like when they were just Stanton's age, so little and full of promise, some little kid who just wanted to cuddle and be loved.
Life is so ugly sometimes.
And then there is redemption. Can they come back from all that? And what could pull them back? Is there something I can do, something I can say in this limited role I play, to nudge their way of thinking. Can I plant a seed of some sort. A little hope. I like to think I can, but then again, I don't know. Today I had to say the words, "I'm not qualified to discuss that but I'd be happy to get you someone to talk to, that could help you address those issues." Because I am an attorney. Not a counselor. I have ethical obligations to not advise beyond my abilities. If she had been just my friend I wonder if I would have still been there for her, or would I have been one of those people who gave up a long time ago, writing her off as a lost cause. Today I really wanted to be her friend.
This morning I had planned to write about that glass in my garden. It is my favorite mystery right now at home (because in an old house, there are always mysteries to uncover). I like to walk around collecting all the random colors peeking up through the dirt, all sparkly chunks of heavy glass, so worn by the soil their edges have been smoothed over, almost like sea glass. So pretty, despite being broken and with no apparent purpose. I've been putting them into the fairy garden lately. Surrounding the succulents and moss planted in the shade of the dead stump, random bits of unwanted glass have now found a home to sparkle in again. They'll never be the "useful" item they once were, but in a way, they are redeemed to something else. Sparkling again and beautiful in their own right.
And thinking about that glass, I can't help but wonder if people can be the same way.
"So say a prayer for the weary
Say a prayer for the lost
Say a prayer for the hungry
They’ve all paid the highest cost
You know hope is there to find
We’re all too quick to condemn
So lay your hands on a desolate soul
Yeah cause someday you just might see them
Down at the lost hotel"
Say a prayer for the lost
Say a prayer for the hungry
They’ve all paid the highest cost
You know hope is there to find
We’re all too quick to condemn
So lay your hands on a desolate soul
Yeah cause someday you just might see them
Down at the lost hotel"
- Lost Hotel
This is the only version available online of the song, but I encourage everyone to go buy it on iTunes! Heck buy the whole album, he's basically my favorite.
