Tails

Tails are supposed to be cute.  Before, I would picture a tiny marmalade kitten with big blue eyes attached to a tail.  Or, a curly tail attached to a chubby little pug as it strolls down Madison Avenue with its owner.

Now when I think of tails all I can picture are bell curves.  Bernoulli distributions.  Deviations from the mean.  How many multiples from the mean are you?  Have you ever been a "black swan"?  Ever been struck by lightening?  Have you ever inhabited the tail end of a "normal" distribution?

Once you've existed in the tails, looked to your right and seen a firm line; an ending; and looked to your right and seen a vastness of empty, uninhabited space, you wonder if you'll ever get out of the tail.  You wonder what it's like to be statistically "normal".  "It's a once in a lifetime event."  they say, as if this is some sort of comfort.  It's not.  There is no comfort in telling someone that they are the statistically improbability that few talk about and everyone fears.

I miss the other sort of tail.  I miss looking at my cat's curling or quivering tail, and smiling.  Now when I see a tail, all I can picture is what has been lost, and I can't even imagine putting any of it back together.