One Page #32

I wonder how many people put their hands together in prayer every day. I wonder why people clasp hands, or put their palms together. Maybe it is to still the hands. In a dark room a woman in black clasped her hands together, knuckles white and tense, arms shaking. Looking to the sky in desperation. If lightning struck her down right now. If the floor fell out from underneath her. If a window shattered sending shards into her open eyes. But none of these happened and I watched her from where I stood deep in the shadows where the darkness covered up my slow breath. Her eyes pleaded. I wondered what she was praying for. I didn’t know her. I had never seen her before. The lines on her face showed long times of stress, worry. My brow wrinkled. I wondered why she worried. I thought about the row of rooms, all stone lined up and down the hall, where other women in black kneeled in reverence. Did they all have worry lines? A bell tolled many miles away. It was eleven o’clock and the night was only getting darker. I leaned quietly against the stone wall, so cold against my back, so unfamiliar in texture. I doubted anyone had ever leaned her before, the stone felt virgin of human contact, unaccustomed to the heat and rhythmic breathing. Lightning struck. The floor fell. A window shattered. The woman in black did not move, still looking at the sky as the roof caved in and she had a clear view of the stars. The walls collapsed around us, and instantly disintegrated into the earth. Her arms still shook slightly and her knuckles tensed whiter. I had no where to lean and nearly fell over. I steadied myself and stood with my arms crossed over my chest still watching. The woman didn’t seem surprised and the change in her environment. Now she kneeled in the night, surrounded only by the blanket of darkness and the winking of stars above. Her eyes closed a moment and when she opened them she glanced briefly at me, but seemed to be expecting my presence. Her eyes stayed on mine, and her gaze was calm but sad. I wanted to move toward her but could not lift my feet. I unclasped my arms from across my chest and held my hands at my side. Her arms still shook, but mine just rested, motionless. She slowly rose, her eyes still on mine, and came towards me. The woman in black stood before me and the breeze that lifted through the valley caught our hair and blew it in circles, mingling her blonde curls with mine. I smiled at her. She just looked. It was her turn to study my face. I swallowed. I tried to reach out for her but her body was not there. She nodded at me and I understood her worry lines that creased her face. She smiled. I lowered my arms. And smiled back.