Queen of a Jaded Heart

By: Payton M. Ishmael

Playing cards are tricky. It seems a good hand in one game is a bad hand in another. Hold a card one way, and you have a ‘6’. Flip it over, it’s a ‘9’. The clubs and spades have always looked too much alike to me. I can’t tell the difference. Unfortunately, Vegas finds stark resemblance, especially when I’m sitting around a table. Hold ‘em. Fold ‘em. Deal ‘em. Hit ‘em. Good hands, bad hands… the difference falls in the eye of the beholder.

I wake up one morning blessed beyond measure with an incredible family, a good education, fabulous friends, and a gracious God. Life gave me lemons, and I particularly placed them in a darling silver serving bowl for my springtime center piece among my exquisite kitchen table, inside my cozy home, outlined by tulip-laden flower beds. I’m full of determination to change the world, touch the top, and spread my over flowing joy with all those I meet.

The next morning, I wake up as the same person with the same life, but looking at my hand from a different perspective. I’m a lonely young lady. The pillow beside me remains empty night after night. I watch as friends and family spill over with happiness as their little ones come into the world, while I remain childless with no hope in sight. I work 65 hours a week, paycheck to paycheck, and barely pay the bills with a master’s degree. My car is having problems. I’m gaining weight. I have varicose veins. My skin is getting age spots. Life gave me lemons, and I threw them away because yellow lemons don’t make pink lemonade.

And they tell us to play the cards were dealt…

A deck comes with 52 cards, I think. There’s no one set of rules. You have games like black jack’ where color nor suit matters, as long as you can calculate a sum of 21. Oddly enough, ladies are encouraged to find a jack for this one. Then there are games like poker, where every intricate detail of each and every card holds meaning. Even more complication is inflicted when we get outside the realm of traditional playing cards; Phase 10, Uno, and Skip-Bo. Whatever happened to the Go-Fish days?

I comprehend the fact that my cards must be played, but I’m becoming famous for playing the wrong card at the wrong time. I don’t fully comprehend the game, and therefore am often clueless as how to play. Some days I’m confident and step out on faith. Others, I’m terrified to make the wrong move. Even more so, my greatest fear is that my hand isn’t strong enough to play.

There’s an elephant on my chest. My blood pressure rises crimson up my neck and face, even to my ears. I can’t breathe. The anxiety causes my heart to be so loudly, strongly, and quickly that I can watch my skin protrude… not again. An anxious queen of hearts; some that feel, some numb, some broken, some hopeful for a King, a diamond, and anything red.

A handful of cards for a game I don’t want to play.