The Accountability of Remaining

by: Aimee Herman

Horns. Sirens. A baby cries. Dog barks as though it’s being squeezed and shattered away from its body. Airplane. Bus stop. This is my ropealarm clock. Good morning, Brooklyn.

Some mornings I want to scream away. Some mornings my body feels ransacked as though the echoes of my remembered dreams were real. Love can never be counted on, but Mondays always arrive each week and work never calls out and there is so much to do and can I just rewind, rewind, and step back?

It has been about a month since I started this new relationship. We call each other: accountability partners. He has no idea how perfect the timing was when he asked me. I was quite close to an exit sign: the one that exists beneath bridges or at the bottom of oceans or beneath the final swallow of non-prescription pill bottles. He asks me what my goals are for the day; we each settle on three. I will ask him about these tomorrow. Some roll over, but we always cross off at least one.

So, everyday one of us calls the other, though on busy days, we rely on email. Regardless of overwhelm, of remorse from the day before, we check in. He reminds me to remain just by asking me what my goals are. He has no idea how profound this daily phone call really is.

I wonder what would happen if we all had these people in our lives. Just someone who calls each day to ask you what you want to accomplish. For us, it always goes back to words, writing, elongating the language of our poetics in some way. For others, it can just be about what three things must be done to remain one more day.

Share this:

Leave a Reply