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jacobgeanous submitted a contest entry to Write A Poem About Where And When You Feel Most At Peace 3 months, 3 weeks ago
What's Worth Surrendering To
Hello my love,
How fitting it was that I first met your father thousands of miles away from our overgrown backyard on the fringes of Appalachia. At his colmado — a neighborhood bodega and makeshift bar, you explained — in Villa Juana — the hood, you explained — as a raging frenzy of politically charged demonstrators flooded and throttled the streets around us. It was best to be careful this close to the election, we were told, only to later find ourselves caught in the throes of the collective and unrelenting march. Every street that was ever paved was created with the potential for such chaos, as long as humanity exists to take to them with signs, chants, shouts, shoves, and song. The neighborhood was manic and alive. Two tall stools along the countertop bar of the colmado, alongside your father and uncle, were the only refuge. That, and the beer in big bottles so cold they had frosted over white.
Hundreds of miles away, in the all-inclusive resorts that dotted the outside of the islands eastern half, conservative tourists paid top dollar to be kept far removed from the very havoc that now swirled around us. There is much that could be said about that sunny afternoon that melted into night as tall green beer bottles wrapped in soaked white paper piled up on the counter. Every once in a while, a shot of Brugal to loosen the screws around us. The clamor from the street behind us melted into the distance as the day wore on.
There was a peace that I felt in the hours that followed unlike anything I’ve felt for a while. In that moment, alongside you, young, newlywed, half-buzzed, at the climax of an adventure that had taken us to what felt like the throbbing edge of the world. Each atom around us buzzed with the vibrance of a visceral reality — far removed from the one we left behind, which now in retrospect seems so self-obsessed and comfort-prone it is stripped of most real authenticity. It was a return to the squirming, crying chaos we are all born into and are all so quickly trying to put behind us, it seems, where concerns of which toothpaste nine out of ten doctors recommend, celebrity feuds, and a flimsy freedom prevail — as long as your car note, electric bill, and the grass in your yard are all constantly minded.
And I could still feel the echoes of what we had left so far behind after your father rolled his wheelchair to the front of his corrugated steel home and began blasting the Bee Gees and Barry Manilow on a tower of front-room speakers. His story, which played out over Presidente and styrofoam cups of liquor, continued — the sicario who put him in his wheelchair for life after opening fire on a street, just like this one, thirty years ago, might be locked up in a Mexican prison somewhere. It was a conspiracy plot, not a freak tragedy. Revenge was still on the table, however improbable. The Americans have been, and continue to, pull the strings around here in ways no one can fully imagine.
Now, it was Bob Marley’s turn on the speakers. Darkness settled over the neighborhood while people who knew you, my love, as a little girl, stopped by to see the woman who had become of her. The woman I would eventually marry and see the world through pandemic and protest, deaths, both big and small, champagne-soaked celebration, and quiet nights lit only by campfire sparks. There is a peace in finding what’s worth surrendering to and fighting like hell against everything that isn’t. There is a peace in allowing the world to swirl around you, let it do what it must, its best and its worst, as you take in your fellow man. There is an ancient spark in spirited debate over a passed bottle; in a father reuniting with daughter; in the embrace of a community.
As we left the neighborhood, headed back to the center of Santo Domingo, as my sweated-through clothes stuck to my back and legs, I considered that I had been a part of something unique, holy, even for one night, and that, across the world, neighorhoods and communities, shared moments like these where people ventured from their front doors, set up some plastic chairs in the shade, shared a meal they cooked, bought a neighbor, or stranger, a drink.
It helps to be reminded of these things every once in a while.
I want to thank you, my love, for your very existence and for bearing witness to it all alongside me. There is a peace, warmth, and dazzling beauty in sharing it all.
Love,
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You are a fantastic storyteller, Jacob. I am so happy that you and your loved one have spent so much quality time together and made so many memories that you will cherish forever. Being accompanied by someone so close to your heart throughout your life is such a beautiful thing. I am so delighted to hear that you have had an amazing time finding…read more
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