Ruminating calms me and pulls my mind far enough from reality to enable me to process something that has left me uneasy. Sometimes I have conversations with people who aren’t there, like it’s a rehearsal for a conflict that I expect to have with someone. Or I want to have answers ready for a conversation that will likely never happen. for instance when I want to tell a person what I think about what she or he did or said. Other times, I try to redo a conversation to come up with a better answer than “Oh, Yeah?” I also ruminate to try to explain things I’ve seen, like an old lady with a pierced tongue. I spoke with a woman recently who could have passed for Mrs. Claus. Her tongue was pierced. That isn’t a bad thing necessarily, but it was unexpected.
As she spoke to me, the sixty-something seemed to carefully choose her words to enhance my viewing experience, as if she knew I was staring at it. Which I was. I watched for it as her lips parted and her language made it appear and disappear like a marble on a Mobius strip.
I realize now that, after the first glimpse of it, I didn’t hear a word she said. It was like when your wife comes home after a girls’ night out and you ask her how it went and, as she’s telling you about what Kathy did with some guy she met at the bar, you see her reflection in the dining room mirror as she pulls her wedding ring out of her purse and slips it back on her finger before she turns around to face you and you lost track of everything but that.
After I walked away, the image of the bobbing black bean riding her tongue lingered and looped in my memory, the same way watching someone covertly replace her wedding ring might be the only lasting impression of that moment.
I vaguely remember the conversation. I think the conversation went like this:
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but is — here today?” She licked her lower lip with the bottom of her tongue as if she had to think about my question for a few seconds then said she,
“Oh, I’m sorry, she is working from home today. Can I help you with thomething?”
“No thanks,” I said, “I’ll thee her later.”