It has occurred to me that for many years I have stayed stuck in a box with no one to look at. No one to point or shoot at. No one to capture or glance over. Not that long ago I met a woman. Though she barely used me any I liked her. I liked the way she would screw up her face in confusion at all my mishaps and breakings and pieces that didn’t fit where they used to. She would open and close me hoping I would magically be fixed and she could just fill me up with film and take me for a spin. But behold I was broken. However, on a day where her tears met her face, I could tell she needed someone. More so something. She packed me up along with Canon, some Oreo’s, a bottle of water and a PB&J sandwich and we drove. I sat upright in her passenger seat. Every so often I would look over to see if she was okay. I had never seen tears meet her face so my first thought was that she was taking me somewhere to express the anger she was feeling. I thought to myself that maybe she had had enough of my brokeness and was going to take me out, literally. Rip open my backside, unscrew what I had left and haul me over a railing into the Delaware river. But she didn’t.
She parked our asses at what seemed to be like an industrial plant. I could tell we weren’t far because I could see in the distance a Central Philadelphia sign. She pulled me out of the car, stuck me in some gravel in between two abandoned train tracks and for the first time I was out. As the sun in the cold winter air beamed on me, she stood in front of me. Her and Canon. I was confused, I was scared. I mean how could she take me to such a place? What did she want with me? A few minutes passed and then it happened. I became her subject, her muse, her focus. For once I was the one who wasn’t broken. Although her life might seem to pieces at moments and although her life might be as together as the best, she still needed something. That something was me. I was her peace, I was her sanction. I moved like she instructed and even posed with a few new friends we found down at the tracks.
Though I will forever be broken, I will forever be a memory of peace for the woman who rescued me from a box.