TWISTS & TURNS by David Erhart

A different version of life is presented to me during my trip to Omega during the summer of 2011. I suppose the best place to begin is with our afternoon off, on Wednesday, August 24th. The start is simple. I tell Penny that I am going to the fair. You know the Duchess County Fair held along Route 9, on the way up toward Red Hook.

My car ambles into town. The roads I pretty much recognize from the Sunday I came. On Rhinebeck’s Main Street, I march gingerly into CVS and get one of the pharmacists to show me where a bottle of vitamins are to deal with macular degeneration. Macular degeneration of the dry kind is not a big deal coming from the family I do.

Afterwards I zip across the street and go into a bakery and coffee shop whose iced brew I drank last Sunday. I see a crumbly bar to eat. It looks like an apple bar. Definitely, it’s the one I want. Asking the salesperson what’s in it, she goes on at length, but all I hear is “oats” and “chocolate.” Wanting something delicioso, as they say, to wash this baby down with, I order espresso and give the girl my name. Sitting down, I see sections of the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal on the counter in front, and since I am a wee bit starved for news, I begin combing. Business section… Tuesday: Market up, Gold down. Then hitting the Journal, I come across an article written about how my favorite baseball team, the Mets, have over the past five years imploded. Isn’t this subject known already?

Off to the fair I go. I’m crawling up a very clogged Route 9. I’m in the process of making a quick decision that I don’t want to stop at this stupid thing, and when I drive by I see why. There are lots and lots of rides, and not one farm animal in sight. Actually, this explanation is weak. In the back I’m sure there are birds, pigs, cows, and all kinds of other animals. I fight the traffic just a little ways further. Then whamo, on my way to Red Hook. It’s a curious town with a funny name. I really want to see it. Driving through, I catch the name of an Indian Restaurant and wonder if it’s doing as well as the restaurant in Rhinebeck that said “Essuyez vos pieds.”

A beautiful Parkway called the Taconic is the next thing on my slate. And here I am penetrated by a paralyzing thought. I was driving to Maine last week with my wife and twenty year old daughter, Claire. Claire was in the back, sprawled out in recovery from her party the night before. When all of a sudden, just south of Bangor, I fell asleep at the wheel. It just happened for a second, but I fell asleep at the goddamn wheel. I drifted, drifted into the left lane. There were no trucks, nor cars on the road. If there had been, my sleeping may not have occurred. But holy smokes, this one event would have been life’s moment most devastating.

A steep bank would have caught the car and flipped it down its side. Trees and rocks waited at the bottom. Who knows what they could have done? I’ve had horrible dreams of killing my daughter like I had dreams about killing my father. In this moment of senseless wandering, I came close to making these true.

All right... all right, my guide is speaking. She articulates the following: “Don’t drive long distances. And for God’s sakes, let your daughters drive, always.”

You see, a different version of life has come upon me. High-strung before my brain injury, I became even more high-strung after it. And now, ladies and gentlemen, my strings are tightened like the very tightest of a violin.

Back at Omega, it’s six o’clock, and I am on my way to dinner. Suddenly, it occurs to me. I am not hungry for food at all. I retreat to the Sanctuary where I go into the empty space, sit in a grounded chair, and let pictures of the weeks personages play out before me.

This Sanctuary is a Cathedral in the Woods, blessed from the heart by God. I sit there for a long period of time before another person enters. After some moments I open my eyes and see a young girl lying in fetal position up front where the alter would be. Quietly I get up, leave the building, place my shoes on my feet and see the scuffed heels of my prostrate partner’s sandals. Who the heck knows? Maybe we both found this chapel exactly when we needed to.

I walk down the path toward the campus’s main road. I have my flashlight around my neck but don’t use it. I feel truly blessed by my moments alone and decide that instead of spending so much time heading outward, I should begin the process of going within.