The Center of the Spin
Miss Lettie had vertigo again. She sat parked sideways at the base of the ramp outside Dog River Café, her scooter angled in a way that made it hard for anyone else to get by. This happened sometimes. Folks thought she blocked the ramp to be difficult. Maybe she was. But truth was, she needed something solid behind her when the spinning came.
A girl leaned against the café’s outer wall, arms crossed, scrolling her phone with her thumb like she was trying to wear it down to a nub. She was seventeen, maybe, with a summer job inside and a bad attitude to match.
“You all right, Miss Lettie?” the girl asked without looking up.
“I’m sittin’ still. That’s all I can do right now.”
The girl finally looked over. “Is it like... your balance? My aunt gets that.”
“It’s my everything. Sight, bones, belly, ears, nerves. Sometimes the world just starts spinning and the only way through is to let it.”
The girl furrowed her brow, then looked back at her phone. “Sounds awful.”
Miss Lettie gave a little shrug. “Used to be. Then I learned something. When it spins, don’t fight it. Get to the center.”
“The center?”
“Yep. Middle of the spin. Right in the eye of it. That’s the quiet place.”
The girl shifted her weight. “Sounds like some meditation crap.”
“More like survival.”
The girl lowered her phone a little. “Sometimes when I’m alone I feel like I’m gonna crawl out of my skin.”
Miss Lettie nodded. “That’s the beginning of the spin.”
“So what do I do?”
“You sit your little behind down and breathe until it stops feeling like the end of the world. Then you do it again the next time. And you keep doing it until you realize you’re not alone in there. You’ve just been hiding from yourself.”
The girl didn’t reply right away. Then she tucked her phone in her apron and slid down the wall to sit beside the scooter.
They watched the clouds like that until the lunch rush.
The spin had passed. But the quiet stayed.
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