YOU
Will Eno
Picture yourself exactly as you are. Reading or whatever. It’s a nice day outside. You ate an hour or so ago. No cramps anywhere, no aches or migraines, with any luck. You’re just being you, more or less painlessly. You’re not bothering anyone, not in any great need. There’s a window near you and through the window you can see an ocean and on the ocean a boat. No need to describe the beautiful way the light hits the water. Nor the happy clouds against the sky. Lucky you. It’s a weekday, or a Saturday or Sunday, it doesn’t matter. Your breathing is easy, it happens without you thinking. Your pancreas is hard at work, your duodenum, all the thankless organs. Your heart beats quietly. The white sails move slowly across the horizon. Ahh.
You have a nagging thought or two, a doubt or two, yes. You have those thoughts you always think, of course. But this is what makes life life, you think. The brain is an organ like the lungs, like the heart, you think. It’s going to keep going, it’s paid to be a brain, after all. A weaker person, or you at a weaker time, would give in to all the noise, would let your soul or what you call your soul be dragged down by the nagging thoughts. But not you, not now. No. Now, you’re just a person, you’ve got a book or a magazine, feet are up, it’s just you, sitting peacefully in a sunny room like a peaceful animal.
Some church bells ring and it’s nice. Some birds sing and why wouldn’t they? It’s a beautiful beautiful day. The sky is like something kindergartners would make. The temperature is just right. A perfect day to be a human being, you think. You really picked the perfect species. It’s so wonderful we see in color, you think.
You have a little funny feeling in your temple, a funny little pressure, but it probably isn’t anything.
You read some more, or stare some more, or sit some more. You keep being you. Wonderful. A family member or two is around the house, doing this or that, but, everything’s fine. People are coming and going, but, mainly, you’re on your own, relaxing.
Behind your house, there’s a community center. Today, there’s a French Horn class for seniors. They’ve been meeting every week and, God bless them, they’re really getting good. It’s a beautiful instrument, you think. It’s perfectly expressive of all those things only a French Horn can express. They’re playing “Amazing Grace.”
I once was blind but now I see, you think.
You get up to move to the couch. A little dizzy. You got up too quick, probably. The French Horn is so beautiful. You picture all those seniors, concentrating like children, their dry cheeks bright red. They’ve stopped for a break. They all bring their own lunches. They all sit together at the picnic table in front of the center. You saw them all there, last week, or the week before. They leave their horns everywhere, on the grass, hanging on branches, carelessly, as if they were the bicycles of kids coming in for dinner. The seniors talk and talk and their lunches are wrapped in napkins.
You feel a little as if you ate ice cream too fast. Your poor head. Best to lie down for a while.
A small plane is flying over the ocean over the boat. You can hear it like a mosquito. You try to get a better look. It’s a skywriter. It starts making its letters. T, R, E, M, B, L—
Something incredible happens. You kind of remember either getting sick or falling down. Call an ambulance, you hear someone say. Get some water, the voice says. What you feel is not panic and is not calm. What was white is gray and what was gray is gone. You go in and out. There are some familiar people looking down on you, and, some professional people. They have normal haircuts. They’re saying numbers and taking things out of cases. It’s busy and crowded and no one is speaking to you except to tell you not to worry. You are going down your driveway. You’re being lifted into an ambulance. You can see trees out of the rear windows. You can smell the ocean. The seniors have started playing again. You’re praying to God. You’re begging God to exist and to let you believe in Him, to let you pray to Him. You’re thinking of the people you love. You’re so scared. The seniors are playing an old hymn. We hope you’re going to be all right. You’re such a great person. We hope you did a lot of the wonderful things you were always wanting to.