organ donors

by erika

Yesterday I had tea, iced soy chai, to be specific,

with an Episcopalian priest whose heart, too, was broken

into pieces that, when laid out on the table before us,

looked so similar to my own

that I think I may have picked up a few of her shards

and she, a few of mine.

 

There was so little difference between us anyway

that the mix-up seemed mute.

 

Both of us, with our children born 6 days apart, always on the giving end of taking.

Both of us, with our blue eyes advertising year-round open swim, lifeguards forever on duty.

Both of us, with too much wine and Netflix, too much faith and resilience, too much thinking that we could lift everyone else up while we were drowning.

 

Who gives the lifeguard mouth to mouth?

 

She, a woman of the cloth,

and I, a woman who likes to take her clothes off immediately,

sat across that table re-puzzling our loss.

It’s amazing how easily you can forgive yourself when you recognize that you are carrying around parts of another human’s heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But there we were, on what would be only our second meeting,

giving each other CPR

She, a woman of the cloth

and I, a woman of the

 

 

 

 

Both of us with

in fact

as we shared our stories

and re-puzzled ourselves

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