Nearly two weeks later and everything is so changed, so heels and pencil skirts and holding hands, palms nervous and clammy and so very reassuring. No one told me how much talking this would entail, how much paperwork and talking and editing and talking. I’ve stopped lawyering entirely, which leaves even more room for talking, and it’s hard to believe that anyone cares so much what I’ve to say; after two days I grew weary of the sound of my own voice, but now, meh, I mostly ignore myself. Gotta do and all that.
We spent an hour rearranging the furniture, and that counted as a one-on-one. We spent two hours talking about driving and hair and the vanities of age, and that also counted as a one-on-one. Nearly two weeks later and I’ve got this shit down, but the hard stuff hasn’t even happened yet. THAT is some cause for alarm.
I wish I knew you in the days of emoji; I would’ve been all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. That’s kinda where I’m at now, anyway, not even tempted to follow where gravity leads. Will I get swept away as once I did? It doesn’t much feel like it. But it does feel like a calm, a quiet, and whether that’s before the storm only time can tell.
Played 4 times
"My Winding Wheel" by Ryan Adams
I think I may have willed this into existence, maybe through attraction or boredom or whatever it is that makes molecules vibrate the way they do. All I know is one day we’re all hockey and poutine and kicking it with Cousins, and suddenly we’re standing in front of CVS all awkward arms and tippy toes. It makes the head spin.
My father was hospitalized over the weekend, brain aneurysm they say, and my own brain is finding it difficult to contemplate. I’ve had zero emotional response to the news but for some vague annoyance at my mother (who blames herself of course) but for once in my ungrateful life I’m supremely thankful for my little sister—the ostensible nurse—for her ostensible nursing of the situation back home. Way to go, little sister.
And here I am on the real Day One, to-do list one million items long, willing myself to take the leap (for if there are two things at which I excel, they are willing and leaping).
Someone called me “Ms. Director” this morning. I lol’d.