May 12, 2008
Penultimate
Last night, after I had replanted my tomato plants and read The Last Chinese Chef and wandered around my kitchen twice for dinner, I collapsed on my bed in tears. And today, I woke up and looked around and ran and sat on the couch and went to work and could barely look at people.
I work with such amazing people. I say, "I don't feel good today," and they know already. They say, "Go home." They say, "Don't worry." They say, "Things will be better, you'll see."
Somewhere, maybe a week ago, a little more, I crossed that silent line of sadness. The familiarity is striking. To remember the sleepless nights, the uncontrollable crying, the sloth of everyday action. To remember empty flower blossoms and tasteless food and pain that leaves you never quite right again. To remember it all and today, too.
Last week, I pulled out What the Living Do by Marie Howe. I love most of the poems in the collection, but a few have caught in my memory. From "My Dead Friends":
I have begun,
when I'm weary and can't decide the answer to a bewildering question
to ask my dead friends for their opinion
and the answer is often immediate and clear
Should I take the job? Move to the city? Should I try to conceive a child in my middle age?
They stand in unison shaking their heads and smiling-- whatever leads to joy, they always answer,
to more life and less worry.
Whatever leads to joy. To more life and less worry. Last night, I penciled out some numbers on a sticky note by my bed. $6,600 to take four months off. Minus $3,900 in accrued vacation time. I save $1,200 a month. Nine weeks. I need a new roof before I can leave. Add $5,500. Seven months. Which puts me thirty days, more or less, past high holidays. Perfect.
Tonight I walked around with Tracey for a while, and she told me she was leaving in the fall. I was so sad. It's been two months since I stopped seeing her every day. And to not see her at all seems... I don't even know. Unthinkable. And then I got home, and there is this post-it with numbers and doodles and plans by my bed. Plans to leave and go away and what was I really thinking would happen? That I would go to India and Tracey would come with and everything would be as it was? My thoughts seemed less transparent yesterday evening.
To more life and less worry. I repeat it to myself, and again, and again. To go to work tomorrow. To take a second job. To leave everything and go and wait. To receive joy again with the eagerness and anticipation that only a haunted memory can provide.
Posted by Sean at May 12, 2008 09:14 PM