We drove past her on the way home; she was standing there in the rain weaving unsteadily on her feet, a glazed look on her face. I don't know if she saw us go by, if she felt the pull that I felt in my chest. How can I leave you standing there in the rain? Waiting. I remember loving her. I remember trying to protect her, trying to make her feel pretty, trying to make her feel strong. I also remember hurting her, thinking my honesty could change her when nothing could change her at all. She was too far damaged before I even met her. Even before her parents met her. And now she's a stranger standing in the rain awaiting a ride back to a transient home, a transient partner, a transient life. Will the ride come? I want to make sure she's safe. And I know she never will be - ride or no ride.

And I squint at her and see her the way strangers do. Probably wondering what's wrong with her. Maybe making judgements. Druggie... loser.... freak...

And I squint harder and I see gravestones.

And I open my eyes and brush away the tears because this woman was my family.


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