Ok. I am actually 38 years old -- not 12. I will consider last night to be a minor blip on the radar. This morning was rough. Too rough. I considered blowing my brother off and not meeting him at the airport but my sense of personal responsibility told my irresponsible self to suck it up and keep in mind that the airport had public bathrooms if I had the need to puke some more. We went out for lunch at a favourite pub of mine and I indulged in a chicken filled boxty (potato pancake). It stayed down. Thankfully. The kids were being their charming selves and my big brother is still my big brother. Me? I was the chirp :)
What did I figure out last night? I feel like I'm standing at a crossroads. I desperately want change but I don't want to risk losing what I have. One summer, when I was in university--I think I might have been doing co-op at DND around that time or I was living the good life on EI and taking night courses, it doesn't really matter I guess -- there was a man who could be found around the neighbourhood who would be dressed in a dark suit and would be holding a briefcase. Our neighbourhood had its share of those with particular forms of mental illness. There was the woman who walked around with her doll baby, there was the man who kept checking banisters to ensure that they were straight, there were the odd folks wishing all passers by to listen to Jesus and there was this man in the dark suit. This man would stand at intersections. For a while, he chose to take his daily stand at the intersection by our apartment. He would stand at the corner watching traffic pass him and, when traffic let up, or he was at intersections having crossing signals that changed from don't walk to walk, he would shift his position so that he was once again facing the static red hand. He would stand there for hours. He did this, as far as I know, all summer. During the summer his suit started to hang on him. He lost a great deal of weight. His skin, subject to the elements, became redder, more wrinkled and dry. I personally never saw him arrive at the corners nor did I ever witness him leave. I remember trying to write about him and how he seemed to stand at the corner of chance and choice. He was less a human being to me and more liken to an organic allegory.
After having my marriage fall apart I've been feeling more and more like I've been snoozing for the past 10 years. Yes, I had kids and have grown in my job and such but I feel that other facets of my life have been lying dormant. I think I'm ready to wake up. I'm just not too sure what road I should cross.
1 comment:
I remember that man too well to this day. His hand (holding the case) became swollen and red and looked like baked meat. There - maybe - is the cost of not choosing. You stand and swell and your blood pools and you become a sun-baked blister. He scared the hell out of me, since he seemed to be living in a hell nobody else could see. And you are right: it looked like he teleported in and out. I never saw him walking.
I am glad you've gone back to the blog. I hate facebook; it's meaningless (but for the photo logs) and cold and gives no sense of what people are doing or thinking.
You haven't been sleeping for 10 years, you were just doing the best anyone - mother, wife, woman - could do. And you did great. You've always done great, and sad and lonely or not, I know you always will.
Love you girl.
G
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