I'm 'round the corner from anything that's real

Lately, I do two things, a lot. I cry. I think about snakes. I usually cry in traffic. Granted Dallas traffic sucks. Hard. But that is not why I cry. I cry because my Mom is dying of cancer, and when I'm in my car, I'm alone with my thoughts. Which is why I think about snakes. Actually, serpents. I've since learned that snake is a biological description. Serpent implies something mystical or religious.

I didn't know that then though. I just thought I was having weird ass recurring snake dreams because I had seen Snakes On A Plane. Silly me, I would soon learn, as I drove down 45 on my way to Houston Town, to go to a Doctor appointment with my Mom and Dad. At this point in the story, I knew my Mom was very sick with cancer. That there were a lot of complications. It didn't look good. Still, I didn't know then, what I know now, so I was trying to shake that sick feeling attributing it to me being a worrier.

So, there I was, driving down 45, unable to shake that sick feeling, alone, in traffic which meant I was soon crying. At some point, I decided to play U2 on my iPod. I should note, I have 91 U2 songs. That equates to 6.5 hours of music. I also had my U2 playlist set to shuffle mode (which means that songs play randomly.) The first song I wanted to hear though was one I had been thinking about a lot lately. Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own. So, I selected it and let it play, and cried all the more because of the subject. That song ended and I continued listening to U2. Thinking. Worrying. Driving. Crying.

At some point, I sort of zoned out on U2, and decided to pray. Because of my tentative relationship with religion, I feel like a complete tool when I pray. I think I'm doing it wrong, or I become self conscious, or my mind will wander. Still, I try, hard, and will usually start off with a mantra, or recite either The Lord's Prayer, or The Prayer of St. Francis. Those are some good prayers. Better than my rambling ass. But still, considering how I felt, the dread, the fear, the confusion, I felt I needed something that was more personal. So, I prayed. Hard. I'm talking a rambling prayer where I cried, pleaded, begged, and cursed. This went on for a long time. By the end of it all, I was so spent from the outpouring of emotions, that I literally, gave up, and ended with a tiny plea for help. Anything.

At that moment, as if on cue, the U2 song One Step Closer started. At the time, I didn't know much about that song. All I knew was the lyrics were hitting very close to home. Listening, I became so into the song, that I calmed down to better concentrate. After the song was over, I repeated it. During that second spin, I felt so much calmer, that I removed my glasses to wipe away all my tears. As I cleaned the gunk, I noticed something ahead in the road, in my lane, which was the left. I didn't get what it was until I was nearly upon it, at which point, I swerved to miss a big black snake that was trying to cross the highway. When I swerved, the momentum of my car, caused the snake to spin around. Looking in my rearview mirror, I saw the snake slither back from whence it came.

At that point in my story, I had yet to look up the meaning of One Step Closer. I had yet to read anything about serpent symbolism. I had yet to learn that my Mom had been given six months to live.

That was then, this is now. A now in which six months seems a generous prognosis considering the fucking cancer is in the brain. In fact, they are suspending all chemo. Now, it is about giving her medication and treatment that will hopefully ease her suffering. The pain. You might think, or assume from what you just read that 45 was my road to Damascus. Not quite. I'm still sad. I'm angry. I'm confused.

Are all the snakes, and the songs that seem so poignant nothing more than synchronicity? Or something more? I won't lie, the thought of God playing DJ on my iPod sounds strange even to me. And, if it is an answered prayer, do I like the answer? I don't know. I really, truly, don't know.

One step closer, indeed.

Until I BLOG again...a heart that hurts is a heart that beats