Erica...lessons learned on the steps

So one night, I was leaving my girlfriend’s house, and I saw a girl. Crying. Now when I say crying it doesn’t even begin to portray what I saw. I don’t even think words could accurately describe the sight I saw, but it may have been one of the most abhorringly upsetting scenes I’ve ever witnessed. Her eyes were bloodshot from the tears, and she was keeled over and vomiting. She had on what looked like a shower cap, hair underneath disheveled and her otherwise fair complexion was completely red.

“Sir, can you please help me? I just need some help. I feel really depressed…here’s my last $10…I’m just feeling really depressed.”

“I don’t want your money…what’s wrong?”

“I just need someone to talk to…”

Not really knowing how to react, I sat and talked to this young lady for about 30 minutes about her family. Everything from a drug addict mother to an abusive brother, both of whom take money from her. General lack of support at home. Apparently she’d forgotten to take her medication for depression (hence her current condition). She also explained her aspirations to go to college, but being held back by her family. “I don’t have money because they’re always taking it.” Her name is Erica. She’s 20.

We sat there, and waited for the police to arrive (at her request), and talked more. I refused to believe that the damages in her relationship with her family were irreparable. I refused to believe that a home could be broken beyond the bounds of love. She was otherwise convinced. I tried to imagine Erica with a smile on her face, and wondered how often it makes an appearance. And how pretty she’d be having lived a “better” life. How at such a young age these occurrences would impact the rest of her life. How far back it’d gone, and how long it would persist. How blessed I am…

Then I started to wonder in general, how strong is love? I had no doubt in my mind that her brother and mother love her. How could they not? But how far does that take you? Of course I don’t know the answer to that question, but I like to think that it takes you as far as it needs to. How far that is, of course, depends on the relationship and the people in it. Maybe I need to stop living in the clouds, thinking that love conquers all. I just find it difficult to fathom that love is, by any stretch of the imagination, finite. That two people who love each other – a mother and a daughter, two sisters or even two friends – can reach a point where an understanding or common ground is unattainable. Maybe I’m being too idealistic or old-fashioned. Not everyone responds the same to this level of optimism with no grounds or logic to support it. But I’ve seen enough and been through enough to know that you only get one family, and really good friends are hard to come by, and they can be gone with a blink of an eye. Then you’re stuck wishing you had more memories…