A stubborn distance – having to do with geography but even more than that with navigating humanhood – has, these last three days and nights, weighed on the pillow fort I’ve built in the crook of this supposedly grown-up heart. Prone to childish silences and questions, the supposedly grown-up heart thumped up at last night’s eclipsing, reddening moon, wondering all the time why humans don’t howl. While we have more sophisticated ways of expressing distance and full moons and whatever else can’t sit still in us, there’s something to be said for throwing out one long, guileless cry of concern for whoever is out there into real, actual, non-virtual space, and for the fact that the sound would live and carry not because you had carefully crafted a progression of sentiment that rings just right but because it’s in you and has to come out, and damn the stars if they don’t want to hear it.
That sixth day was a long fucking day for God.
He made man with a heart you could literally break. Snap, just like that. Sometimes in two, sometimes in a lot of jagged pieces. And when the hearts broke, so did the humans. Just fell over, like a cut tree. Before noon, even, God realized this was sort of a disaster.
So God created replacement parts for hearts. Little valves and bits of tissue and such. But it wasn’t really any good, because it was only the sixth day of creation; He saw folks picking up these replacement parts and nearly fixing themselves or each other, but they were useless at fixing things yet. And He sort of wanted them to figure out the whole Western medicine thing for themselves. Otherwise what was the point?
So then He resigned Himself to another try, like you do. And after a lot of tinkering and no shortage of cussing, out came the second draft of man. Needless to say, God was pretty pleased with himself upon seeing the first heart break; the human not only stayed upright, but also continued to walk and talk and breathe, even without wanting to. Not really a great revision in terms of Free Will, but God was willing to lose the battle if it meant winning the war.
He’s busy, you know?