Today finds us [Ice]olated In Our Own Little Worlds

by Charlotte E. Wilde


Everything was calculated: to the right, debts; to the left, credits; and I was no closer to understanding where I fit into it all, where you fit into me.

Control is a funny thing, such vast quantities of time have been abdicated to attaining it as though it might eventually be added to some unofficial CV or resume under the column of “high-proficiency” or “near-native fluency.” Yet, I find that when the chips begin to congregate near somebody or another’s lucky fingers a trend begins to appear: our own control is insufficient, we often end up relying on the control of others.

Isolation is no more secure than anything else, it seems. The world goes whirling on and we are all left in solitary grappling with whatever demons lurk under our proverbial beds, dependent perhaps on the outsider’s eye or flash of insight more than we would like.

Today this snow turned to ice has me reflecting on the topic as I watch people not used to this sort of atmosphere. They don rain boots and mittens as some sort of paltry defense but slipping across icy sidewalks sometimes still requires the warm steadying fingers of a friend or stranger’s guiding arm.

To attain either you must be either willing to ask or be flailing to the point that someone reaches out to you instead.

I’m not sure I’m capable of either. Still the kind eyes and words handed to me with my coffee do not go unnoticed, I just don’t know how to grab the hand that reaches half way.

I rarely think of death but today I’m penning obituaries, to the icy berries and frozen tulips that never really had a chance…and to myself.

“Here lies Charlotte, she lacked control in all things except herself, which she ruled as a tyrant with a fistful of iron. May God or whomever bless her probably-not-so-eternal soul and present her with the steadying hand of a friend or stranger in order that she might find the balance she always sought.”

Because I’m not so very picky, I just spend so much time masking off quadrants of my life that I wouldn’t know where to start.