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It would be easy to say that today was like most Sundays... despite continuing to wade about the dust, scattered tools and the disruption of a house under renovation. Also, forgetting for a moment that the ground, the wells and the rivers are mercilessly dry. That pestilence lurks in the evening cool... like a new "improved" version of yellow fever. That a culture whose philosophy and tradition of beliefs differ so significantly than "ours" that they would kill, and connive to kill more innocents. Yet lead their lives as we do... sleep, refuel, socialize, emote. And we need to blow them up, first. Oi. Regardless of all that, the day did play out as if scripted and performed. Opening with perfect blue sky and shorts weather... Laundry day. Grass cutting. Sowing peppers. Getting a twilight buzz on with a couple vodka and tonics. Settling in to a comfortable evening with the tube as the day expires. With a bit of an early fright. While she was loading the baskets with the funky clothes, Miss Jane (a little too wired for so early) dove her head down between the chests of drawers while separating with a thud and a cry. Immediate tears and blood. Somehow, she'd banged her head on the corner of the lower of the two--hard. At first, I thought serious damage had been done... blood, literally everywhere. Coursing between her fingers and down her arm. All over the room. After getting her to calm down and lie back while I cleaned her up, all there was to find was a nick in her scalp. I was expecting her eye to be gone. Sooo lucky. Just a little knot on the noggin. Living with her for over ten years, with all of the history shared, it's not possible for me to dislike this woman... or shy away in a crisis. Disappointment, maybe, that for all this time spent, growth and support and passion haven't kept the pace. Not wasted years... but missing something crucial. A shared wavelength, maybe. Shared purpose, or exploring new things. Spontaneity... from both of us. The leap of the heart when opening the door after absence. So, perhaps it was like too many Sundays. With the added drama of near catastrophe... though peace descended quickly enough. I'd prefer to create more pleasant memories. This is what we get. I want life to mean something. From what I can gather, she feels it's a test to endure. Maybe both... but looking out for the next crisis obscures the sky. The breeze. The possibilities. Nothing is forever. Now is everything. |
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