3D And Technicolor
AN: the characters do not belong to me. they belong to Tess Gerritsen and TNT.
Until I met Jane Rizzoli, I was content to live in a two-dimensional world without color or variation. The very things I depended on were flat and black and white. A flower pressed into a book feels no wind. And suffers no drops of rain, but it is a dead specimen, a reminder at best of days past. If you do not face the wind, you will stay pristine at no risk of a petal crumbling or tearing in the gale.
My dreams used to be grayscale and monochromatic, but currently my mind is painted and color saturated like a batik absent of wax with all the loudest colors like blood red running down asphalt sidewalks and melancholy blue of waiting to find out if your friend will come back from whatever situation that brings the gale into your lives in one piece. It is three dimensional and all lit up in neon lights technicolor.
The voices of a family are not the soothing streams of silence, but I have soaked myself in those streams long enough for my fingerprints to shrivel. It's time I emerge from the placid waters and draw in a sharp breath of icy octagonal air that makes every molecule feel alive. Such is the experience I face unlocking the gates of my well ordered life to a friend whim I love like a sister and a loud and lively family in addition.
So I must decide based upon a traditional cost benefit analysis. Was it worth coming out of my shell enough to experience color and dimension even if I know tomorrow is not promised to anyone? Or would I rather retreat into the flatlands once more? I know I have answered that question when I accepted the call of friendship and family. At first I was scared of loss. The idea that someday this may all be taken is still terrifying as I realize the flesh and blood statistics I always knew in the monochrome. Bullets, trajectories, scalpels, bombs, raids. They take their toll not just on the human lives they extinguish but on those left behind. I know one day I may be left in the void of these uncertainties. But not today. Or perhaps today. I had been treading upon a large platform but now am dangling from a tightrope. What I have discovered is that the love is the benefit. And I am ready, so help my heart, to risk the cost. For once I have seen life I am no longer content to harbor death as a place of homeostasis. It is not dynamic but static. I am reminded daily of life's frailty, its impending end with the next breath that may not be taken for granted. Until then I will relish my connection even if I am quivering inside at its inevitable end.
