Month: December 2023

Atypical Saturday

A desperate and inescapable loneliness has overcome me this morning. Last night I woke up so many times that it’s though I haven’t slept. With everyone gone for fishing tournaments or three-day drunken frolics on the seashore or living new lives with new babies, here I am at home listening to a dishwasher that a young person with the energy of five loaded at 8 AM before getting in a car with her dog to head to Galveston with a whoosh of a goodbye. For once, reading seems like a thief, as I immerse myself in fiction while the real world lives and breathes around me, without me, and now I without it save two cats, the sound of a dripping faucet, and the life of a dishwasher that is remnant of the actions of a person I wish was still here. Not even the veil of sleep can relieve my ache, even if I could bring my mind to give in to it.

Today and lots of Saturdays

When are you most happy?

I woke up this morning with a familiar feeling of contentment. When I was a teenager, aside from the typical tug of war with my parents over my growing need for freedom, I was happy. Waking up on a Saturday morning was invigorating. The day brimmed with potential. On crisp winter mornings I would don my Guess jeans, leather boots, and cute sweater and head to the shops to buy more fashion accessories. The first drag off my cigarette as I took off down the road was my first step toward the freedom I craved, and the nicotine hit differently in that moment than it did all the next first drags throughout the day. I don’t smoke anymore, and Giorgio perfume is only a conduit to my memories rather than a part of my current beauty routine, which is limited to washing my face, brushing my teeth, and putting a comb through my hair. The need for freedom no longer exists because as an adult, I have it. The money not so much. But the potential for a great day met me this morning like it did all those Saturdays long ago. The feeling of having no responsibilities with a blank slate ahead of me brought on the nostalgia and made way for the Christmas spirit to finally hit. I’m going to make some cider, decorate my tree, and wrap presents for my grandson. I think I’ll put a few tunes on the record player and make new happy memories to wake up to.

The irony…

Tell us one thing you hope people say about you.

My life experiences have lead to the moment soon approaching when I will have to demonstrate great resolve without emotions clouding my view and polluting my words. I have endured by the grace of God. But now, having been given a precious jewel, I have let my guard down. I find myself standing in a doorway to a room I’ve been in before. It’s a room of fear and misunderstanding. A room of desperation and attack. But I don’t have to step inside. I can shut the door. What good are my past experiences if I let myself relive them? The art of learning defines my life. I owe it to myself to reframe the picture I see before me because I have earned the stripes.

I will not step through that door again. I will be resolute. And regardless of the outcome, the words that will have mattered are the ones I will have told myself.