What was important was the kindness I've been treated with in that office. The empathy, the gentleness. Possibly there is something wrong with me but I'll always remember the day of my extraction as being a very, very good day. The relief of getting it over with, the drugs, the way my husband cooked me a chicken-pot pie that night, how good it tasted, the feeling of needing to do nothing but lie in bed and sleep and dream.
I was in the middle of my unmedicated anxiety then and that day and night were such a break in my panic. Sure, yeah, it was the drugs but who cares? It was like after spending months drowning in an endless dark sea I was suddenly washed up on an island of paradise with cool palms shading me and sweet water to drink and a cloudless sky.
I took May some eggs because I haven't seen her since I turned sixty and I missed her too much and I ate lunch at her restaurant, sat outside at my own table and read a magazine article and Taylor made me the best Greek salad and May kept my tea glass filled and there was a breeze and it was lovely. We got to chat for a few minutes and hug and it was all just what I needed.
Then I went to a real running shoe store and the nice kid there helped me pick out my shoes after watching me walk and I got insoles too and it cost a shitpile but with any luck, I won't need to buy new shoes to walk in for at least a year. I went into the antique store next door, thinking maybe to find Jessie and Vergil a housewarming gift but after twenty minutes in there I had to bolt. Too much, too much. Way too much.
Groceries, and then home. I've made bread and you should never make bread when your heart is heavy because your bread will be heavy too, the lump of dough is rising at the speed of the reign of the dinosaurs and we'll be lucky to eat by ten tonight.
Jessie and Vergil will be here tomorrow and we're going to do a final walk-through their house tomorrow afternoon and I'm not sure when the signing is but either Thursday or Friday. I will take pictures. Maybe we will go out to eat afterwards to celebrate.
So it goes. It keeps going. I am glad of that. There's been an awful lot on social media about Robin William's death, of course, and I am enraged at the constant barrage of "if you need help, call someone, reach out a hand, get help, etc. etc." Do we not think he had not? Did the man not claim Oliver Sacks as one of his friends?
"Uh, if you look behind the toilet, you might find it."
I didn't ask questions. I just went and looked behind the toilet. I found half of it. The other half was in the trash can beside the toilet. I took the two pieces to Owen and I said, "Why did you do this?"
"I really don't know," he said. I believed him. I understand.
Here's a picture I took yesterday of Owen and Gibson and Nicey in the bamboo jungle. Owen can climb a stalk of bamboo seven or eight feet into the air. He is a monkey. As are we all.
I am blurry today today too.
Here is a picture, also from yesterday, of Gibson sitting on his beloved Boppa's lap.
No need to torture this metaphor any longer.
Let's all just tell each other we love each other, okay?
I love you.