On Hayward Street, everyone walked on the opposite street when passing ‘The Seidel’s’.
Wille lived there with his mother. He had mental and physical abnormalities. His head would tilt just so as he dragged his club foot and balanced his deformed hand on his chest.
Mrs. Seidel would raise her fist and yell at the boys who’d tease him. Everyone wondered where he’d go if something happened to her.
In time, he was taken to a psychiatric facility; his mother taken to a senior home.
The dome street lights cast a shadow across the isolated road.
Parking near a light, he props his law book on the steering wheel and begins reading. In two days, he’ll take his finals. Could his days on the street soon be over?
His radio blares a call about shots fired.
He turns the red and blue flashing lights on as he makes his way to the location.
Speed spurs him into the adrenaline cave.
These calls never end well. Shootings are headline news.
“The coroners arrived and left,” Ronald tells me.
Tomorrow’s Headline: *Boy Commits Suicide at Gun Range*
Depression is an illness that impacts the brain. It’s a real illness hidden for too long.
Anyone suffering from depression will tell you, it’s not imaginary or “all in your head.”
Depression is more than just feeling “down.”
It is a serious illness caused by changes in brain chemistry.
Research tells us that other factors contribute to the onset of depression, including genetics, changes in hormone levels, certain medical conditions, stress, grief or difficult life circumstances.
Any of these factors alone or in combination can precipitate changes in brain chemistry that lead to depression’s many symptoms.
When the ambulance arrived they rushed him straight to the operating room.
We paced outside the coffee lounge waiting area.
It seemed like hours but only minutes had passed.
No one dared speak for fear of causing a deluge of emotions in the nervous mother.
Her woeful cries, when she first heard of her sons accident, rang in Isadora’s ears. She wasn’t sure she could bring comfort to her mother if anything happened to her brother, Vincent.
Hours passed.
It didn’t seem possible, they hadn’t heard anything.
Finally, Dr. Ramundi, approached. “I’m sorry. We did all we could.”
Manuel scurried, as he readied the room for the new priests arrival on Saturday, his limp more obvious when he was tired.
Recently, baffling thoughts had begun confusing him. There’d been five priests transferred from this parish. He wondered why.
~~~~~~~~~
Lourdes worked tirelessly to prepare the special welcome dinner for the new priest. Her job security helped calm her concerns about her son, Manuel’s, future.
~~~~~~~~~
Father Karavalez was reverent and handsome. The nuns giddily whispered about him.
He graciously accepted Manuel as his houseboy; one assigned to each priest.
Shortly after dinner, claiming exhaustion, he asked Manuel to assist him.
My designated car seat was behind my father who drove while smoking unfiltered ‘Camel’ cigarettes.
He was a chain smoker. A habit he’d picked it up in the service.
Ashes would blow into the back seat as he drove us to our weekend park picnic outings orSunday beach getaways.
I had the pleasure of inhaling carcinogen nicotine chemicals.
Despite complaints I’d felt like vomiting, the car ride would proceed with minimal sympathy.
At our destination, I’d have to sit until the dizzying feeling passed. Seltzer was the beverage Idrank to settle my stomach meanwhile my siblings drank cokes.
