Playful Peach #9

The first time it happened I was 5. It was one of those days at the beach where the sun is directly above your head, beating down on your shoulders. I was standing facing the ocean (as my dad taught me) and letting my feet sink deep into the sand. I saw something shiny in front of me that forced my squinting gaze to look down into the sand. That was all it took, one moment of going from bright light to dark and my body began to convulse. I didn’t know what to do so I cried out for my mother as my head hit the sand and I shook so hard it felt like my brain was a small fish in a fishbowl violently shook back and forth. The last thing I remember is looking up at the bright light of the sun before the world went dark.

It didn’t happen again until I was 15. After the first incident my mother became totally paranoid. She acted like my seizure was caused by having too much fun in the first five years of my life and that it wouldn’t occur again if she never left my side. I never went outside unsupervised and I spent most of my time indoors. It was then that I discovered my love for writing. At first I wrote about everything I saw, about my family, the animals I saw, the thoughts I had. But, soon the writing progressed and I started to write poetry. By the time I was 13 I had my first poem on the internet and by the time I was 15 I had my first poem in a literary magazine. But, my real big break occurred a few days before my 16th birthday when I got asked to read my poems at a real life poetry event. I was nervous and excited at once and begged my mother to let me go. She was still a little afraid of me having another attack, but that was 10 years ago and nothing had happened since. I begged and pleaded until she finally caved in. Getting ready that night I wore the sleekest black outfit I owned and completed the ensamble with black barret. When it came my time to read I walked to the front praying that I wouldn’t trip. I perched my body on the stool and looked at the lights ahead of me. Blinded by their glare I glanced quickly down at my poem and suddenly began to feel dizzy. The same shaky feeling that I had when I was 5 was back, but worse this time. I felt my heart pumping fast and knew that I was going to fall. As I laid there shaking I was so disappointed with my body for ruining my big moment.

The last time it happened I was 32. Both of the other attacks seemed largely unrelated to me and I never told my mother about the lights for fear that she would keep me in a dark room forever. I did my time at home under the careful gaze of my mother until I was able to get out of the house. I went to college and studied English planning to be a poet. Somewhere along the way that dream was lost and while I did get my degree in English I ended up being an investment banker in New York City. I lived a fast-paced life always on the go. I never thought of the night at the poetry reading or the day at the beach, my seizures were blips in the larger scheme of my life. All of that changed when I got into the elevator that night. I was leaving work late (like always) and I got into the elevator prepared to go home for a few hours of rest before coming back the office early in the morning. As I was riding the elevator down the lights went out. This startled me, but since the elevator kept going down I was that concerned. But, as the doors opened my eyes were flooded with light. In that moment I was back on the beach again, sand sinking inbetween my toes. In that moment I was back on stage, a confused teenager trying to make it big. But in that moment I was also shaking, my body flailing about. I knew no one was in the building (I was always the last one out) and that no one would be there to move my head from being crushed in the elevator door.