The Game of Knots

A Games of KnotsMom sat at the kitchen table throwing down cards as if she were playing Solitaire, but he piles were jumbled as she sat there, staring at me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I don’t know what I am doing! I’m trying to figure that out!” The words were pressured, impatient.

“What don’t you call it The Game of Knots?” I happily volunteered, for I had found  a secret to this madness and I wanted to share it.

Mom was supposed to be getting ready for work but instead she was looking at me, dumbfounded. I knew at the time she was trying to tell me this was how she perceived me: disorganized, directionless, chaotic. What she didn’t see was the piece of paper I kept moving around the house, and the knots I was making, placing each on something to make combined object-messages.

Knot+banana, I was not bananas.

Not+bell, I was not a bell, not able.

I was not able to explain what happened to me, I was not able to communicate what I was experiencing. Inside I was all tied up, confused, afraid, and very much alone.

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