Until Eternity



So, yeah.  I don’t know.  There’s the story, morning glory.  Better take this in five parts.  Lesser or greater parts, but five.  I can handle anything broken down by five.  It’s rained like a rainy bitch that rained tonight and my hand joints feel stiff.  Remember once when we laughed at the idea of rain or cold or any weather that might confront a postal worker could similarly confound our bodies.   It’s just water.  It’s just a chill.   And now, my brain has to track backwards to let the fingers catch up.  Should wait for warmer climes.   But, according to my mother, the walking Weather Channel, it’s suppose to rain at nights from here until Eternity.

1.  Home.   Still sitting on the mattress, looking up at the bedframe.   No reason for that to have changed.  There’s sort of a college vibe.  Everything in boxes like I’m going somewhere.    I don’t want to unpack anything because I have this window where I can do with less and find exact spaces for what I do keep and until I get there, I don’t want to muck it up.  Better to be between than waste this opportunity.  It is nice.  Lush and good underfoot I told someone today.

2.  Work has some bad, bad news that frankly scares me a bit (maybe more than a bit) and then some minorly better news like drop in the bucket better news but enough that I could enjoy the post-work event.   The work event was all about optimism, planning for the future, getting folks on board and we did that.  We did at least that much.  I also got another chance to whittle away at this big, fucked up fear ball that sits with me.   It’s so unnecessary, but it’s not dead.  Not at all, it’s just got a cold.   I gotta get it on life support.  Gotta whittle and kick and slap and crush and smack the fuck out of it.   I drove through the rain, perfectly reasonably, tried to do one thing new and kept calm while I unconsciously just undid my effort and went the other way.  How do you fight through a watermark on your brain?  The no that is printed to keep anyone from saying yes?  All I can say is that I got home.

3.  Family.  My uncle is still in the hospital in Minnesota while they figure that out and my cousin is staying with my grandfather and it does make you feel sort of far away and unhelpful.  I hope my dad can get up there, or something.  One hardly knows what to say as the “far-flung branch of the family.”  Things aren’t expected of us so I have to worry it’s not enough.

4.  Love.   I don’t.   Drawing back through the thick blue shades, more velvet than gauze nowadays, back to earlier faces, memories, hopes dashed like thin ice under a heavy boot, I have to struggle to think of you.  I let a finger loose on my grip, just my little pinky,

5.  I just want to write, but I’m keyed up.   I’m untethered and I need to do things I don’t have time to do.