Date Night
She and I, we had a date tonight. Tonight was special, because she was taking me out. Roles have changed, in order to keep this “love thang” alive. Plus, I’ve put enough into this relationship that I deserve a date. I texted her to see if we were still on for the night. I was more eager than a spoiled child on Christmas. Our relationship has been long distance, and we see each other as often as we can. Sometimes once a year or every six months, but our simultaneous presence is rare like seeing a rainbow without rain. Lately, things have changed between us—emotionally and mentally that is. Our monotonous love has left a bitter taste in my mouth. My family says I could do better, but what’s love without hope? Although she is more predictable than the changing of a green light into yellow light, I never lost hope. So a random call from her, expressing that she was going to take me on a date… the Earth couldn’t contain my excitement. Therefore, I eagerly await her presence like the hopeful child waiting on Santa with milk and cookies. Minutes turned to hours, and she still has yet to reply to my text.
“Maybe I’m being impatient,” I say to myself trying to calm my anxiety.
Fed up with her silence, I drove to her house. Lady Justice, she was finicky. She would always promise to be helpful, without being definite. Fed up with time wasted, fed up with the games played, I drove to her house breathing pessimistic and angry words to myself. I arrived at her location. Her car was in the driveway. I knocked on the door like I was serving a high risk warrant.
“It’s me, my love,” I passive aggressively shouted through the screen door.
After I shouted, I regretted it because I remembered she’s easily startled. We’ve been knowing each other our entire lives, yet she was still shy like a baby turtle experiencing the world. After no response, I figured she was probably showering or blasting Summer Walker or Erykah Badu. Possibly, the alcohol from her wine was just making it into her bloodstream. If this was the case, I knew she wouldn’t hear me.
“How could I get her attention?” I thought to myself as I noticed the precarious eyes watching me through the blinds.
My eagerness turned to concern. The house was silent, and all the lights were off. I couldn’t hear a noise from inside the house. I knew for a fact she was home because her car was parked outside. So, again I knocked. Neighbors started to turn their porch lights on. This knock pushed the door ajar. My curiosity hypnotized me and I couldn’t stop myself from entering.
Some might be surprised by the scene that lay before me, but not I. Not only was I familiar with the stench of death, because this is a scene I’ve known since birth. Lady Justice lay naked on the floor, exposed like a newborn. She was born lame, so even if she did fall there was no way for her to get up. I felt for a pulse and listened for a heartbeat. She was dead. Thus, it dawned on me. I see why the wicked in the world relishes! Justice isn’t merely blind or deaf or has been fattened with bribes. She is deceased and will remain unless we revive her! Don’t Christians have supernatural powers? If not, she will never wake again, for death is the indomitable factor every human must face. Even the intangibles can’t escape.
“There are no hopeless situations; there are only men and women who have grown hopeless about them.”
