Triggers

Triggers scare me.

I've never fired a gun, but in movies when people wrap their fat little knuckles around it, you can feel the anticipation build up after you hear that faint little "click". In reality, everything would remain safely inside the gun if it weren't for that trigger that seems to change everything as soon as it is pulled and released. The bullet isn't what makes me cringe, because there is nothing mysterious about it. I know that a bullet, when placed in the correct area at the target impact and speed, will kill, harm or cause serious injury. The gun which contains the bullet will fire at the precise speed, and will for the most part perform the same function wherever it is aimed. In all of these "constants", the trigger proves to be the variable, where the entire showdown occurs. I can't control variables, and this is why triggers scare me. Not the gun. Not the bullet.

Today as I was listening to my ipod on the way home, a song came on that triggered an entire strings of memories in precise sequence. My eyes were focusing on highway 29 in front of me, but all I saw were the pictures swirling in my mind stirred with deep emotion. There are instances when I enjoy escaping to old familiar memories that accompany musky Cool Water cologne or the site of a worn out leather-bottomed Jansport backpack. Mostly though, I am irritated, because the triggers that are most often set off are those where I don't feel much closure. Like gunfire, they rapidly are shot into my conscious mind, wounding me through continuous recall.

I know the recall will pass, and I know that memories live in the past. It's the uncertainty of when the trigger will be pulled that scares me, and the wounds that never seem to heal.