"peace with god," Since when do you believe in god?

a small crowd gathered around the site of the crash. a man lay severely injured, crushed under the weight of his motorcylce, bleeding from his right leg and crying for help. it was late in the afternoon, the sun casting long shadows off the trees as a bright orange hue saturated the scene. the man couldn't have been more than 40 years of age.

she was sitting in the seat next to him, her friend bouncing in the back seat, both girls distracted by the Sonoma restaurants which align the busy boulevard in the heart of wine country. He wanted to say something to her but the sight of the accident shocked him with the harsh realization that a man not more than 20 feet to the left was facing death, just like that, in an instant of distraction or carelessness or pure chance, a late summer's afternoon journey turned tragic. As the man reached out for help, gasping for his breath, the light turned green. Cars honked, obviously angry that the red honda with Illinois plates was delaying the inevitable progression of their day, oblivious to the horrific reality upon which his mind was completely focused. And as he sped off, winding through the roads returning to San Franciso, thoughts of ending his young life faded as he pondered the suffering the motorcyle accident had brought that man and his family. Alcohol sampled at various wineries throughout the day had left him in a somber mood, most likely depleting what little reserves of seratonin rushed across the synapses of his burdened mind. She sat next to him, giddy as a schoolgirl, trading stories with her girlfriend in the back seat as he tried to completely block their conversation out. "They don't know what it's like to hurt and to suffer," he thought angrily to himself as he pushed the pedal faster to the floor, feeding off the adrenalin rush harvested from the pounding bass.

Absurd self indulgent woe is me thoughts percolated through his mind throughout the remainder of the two hour trip home. He had been obsessed with depression for so long that the simple moments in which a smile from the one he could have loved only sank his mind deeper into an abyss of tryst. She had weathered two and a half years of his sadness, his madness, his anger and tears, his perpetual whining and worrying, not once listening to her fears. She had called a week earlier in elation, wanting to share with him the fact that she would be there in less than a week and they could spend the entire week together. "Yeah great," he responded with overt sarcasm, "two whole days, what more could I ask for, whatever, sure, sounds good, I'll see you then." She was crushed by such a lackluster response to a short vacation she had long since been expecting. Yet he didn't understand why he should look forward to her visit. It wasn't as if seeing her would "snap him out of it." They could have spent the entire weekend having sex ( one needs love in oneself to consider themselves able to make it), dining at fine restaurants, relaxing and playing in the park, and he still would have dwelled on every could have, would have and should have every second of every hour from the moment she arrived to the moment she left. Hope existed deep within his soul, that much was true, but it was a single gold coin sunk at the bottom of an ocean of despair.

And two and a half years earlier, on a couch in a middle class household in a small Illinois town where everyone knew everyone's name and everyone's business, she lay in his arms, cuddled close, absorbing the heat emmanating from his confused yet admittedly blessed heart. He had searched for her for all those years. He had evaded numerous attempts at girls getting to know him out of fear of being tied into a bond which he'd be incapable of severing should the perfect match come along. Her father and brother, best friend and friend of the family were strewn about the room. The group, minus the father, had just returned from a late night rip to Blockbuster which included a pot stop. He had only just discovered the reality escaping powers of the wonder drug courtesey of her brother and a glass pipe for which a name had not yet been given. They returned with movie in hand and a mad appetite for microwavable buttered popcorn. She cuddled closer to him and in a moment of inspiration he leaned in and whispered in her ear, "you're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time." She acknowledged his words with a slight kiss and pulled back, showing her vulnerability through tears of hapiness which he wiped away by pressing his cheek close to hers. She had found him. He had finally found her. They were destined to be together from that moment until the end of their time.