It is an 18-year-long dance whose start couldn’t have been foreseen and whose end is unknown with days in which I ask if I am seen and heard and others where I know I am impossible to miss.
Tried to go bed early last night, or rather earlier because I knew I needed to be up early and that I wanted to be sharp.
Kids told me the shower wasn’t draining properly and my eldest wasn’t sure how to free a stuck drain cover so at midnight I walked a flight of stairs armed with a screwdriver and a wire hanger.
Seven minutes later I walked back down the stairs, screwdriver in hand and a chunk of long curly hair freed from its trap in the drain.
Water flowed freely and I masked up and went to bed feeling good about everything and then 4 AM rolled around and I woke up as if it was a normal hour.
Tried to go back to sleep and when the body refused rose and made a hot bath for myself. Sat in it for an hour hoping it would relax me and I could get some more shut eye.
Didn’t happen and though my mind wasn’t racing and I felt calm I imagine the deep recesses were filled with churning and that prevented me from finding slumber again.
Sometimes I look at the shackles we bind ourselves with and ask where is the key because if we put them on then surely we can take them off too.
And then I remember sometimes we are bound to others in a different sort of way, not physical but emotionally/spiritually.
Your perspective on whether those bonds are constructed of soft or rough material can evolve over time moving from one to another and then to another again.
It is a dance and sometimes you wonder if your most frustrating partner isn’t your best because when you set aside fear and rely upon your gut you are certain about understanding.
Certain there is a shared instinct and deeper connection that provides the fire and flames that move the engine down the track.
When you don’t fight it the dance is smooth and fluid, easy and understanding. There is a magic and grace to it.
Add a level of passion and a sense that if you let go of fear and move on with that other thing all of the magic chemicals are present.
It is why you never do find that key.
Woke up the other morning and remembered the last part of a dream, “You are the love of my life.”
I muttered back something like “yes I am, submit.”
Sat in that tub this AM and thought about how unexpected that was and tried to figure out what brought it about.
Walked back to the bedroom, lay diagonally across the empty bed wondering if that would help Mr. Sandman find me again but to no avail.
The pandemic magnifies, reveals and illuminates thoughts and ideas.
I write that thought line down because it is applicable in private and professional life.
Time to start preparing for what is to come later so I start setting things up and make a note track whether I’ll be running to the John in June.
I ache, some of that from eight miles in two days.
“What the hell is this shit,” slips out as a grumble because I am uncertain whether my legs feel as they do because I pushed too hard too soon or if age is making itself known.
I am unwilling to concede and draw my lines in the sand.
Some things go this far and no further while others continue because dancers don’t just hang up their shoes.