The reality of
being alone in our own middle - ground is sometimes more than we each should bear.
It is at this point that I wish I were a dog, specifically, my old dog, having now been put to
rest. She was a dog whom knew how to nurture and how to simply let go, of the bone in the
yard, an old sneaker, or the touch of a hand. She was so much smarter
than any of us humans ever proved to be. I am taken back by the ferocity of something smoldering today on the
east coast.
Overhead I feel it, draped in a hot humid air mass, something dragging it's way to the surface, thoughts target between my eyes, then creep from one side to the other as a sharp stabbing pain in my skull. This is when I could easily rid myself of New York, and the complications of life here, for a small flat, in dare I say, Paris? My husband and myself, whisked away in absolute contentment. The idea of writing from Paris has always held a penchant desire for me, sounds so elegant, so artistic, so aristocratic, so, well, so French and Paris. Croissants with tea, wine in the middle of the afternoon, days would be rich and interesting, crimson heat fluttering in our cheeks, but alas, today I am still adrift in humid New York, with just the lingering smell of French Pastry from a breakfast cafe not far away, and the burdens of complications that must be dealt with.
Tears fall to the floor, scurrying to claim all floor space as their own. In a final burden of fate, I release myself from the drowning, and move onward and upward. My brokenness today comes from the thought that one day, the inevitable is going to happen, and one of us, either my husband, or myself, will pass from this earth, leaving the other one, standing alone on the shoreline. That, just scares the crap out of me...I do not want it to be him, nor, do I want it to be me...but endings never happen that neatly. The love I have with this man is something I cling to...........for fear of it one day no longer being there...for one of us.... when the other is gone...AND, on this day, without recourse or reason, I swell with the inevitable course of one of our deaths. No matter how far off from now that time is for one of us, it will still be too soon when it arrives!
Overhead I feel it, draped in a hot humid air mass, something dragging it's way to the surface, thoughts target between my eyes, then creep from one side to the other as a sharp stabbing pain in my skull. This is when I could easily rid myself of New York, and the complications of life here, for a small flat, in dare I say, Paris? My husband and myself, whisked away in absolute contentment. The idea of writing from Paris has always held a penchant desire for me, sounds so elegant, so artistic, so aristocratic, so, well, so French and Paris. Croissants with tea, wine in the middle of the afternoon, days would be rich and interesting, crimson heat fluttering in our cheeks, but alas, today I am still adrift in humid New York, with just the lingering smell of French Pastry from a breakfast cafe not far away, and the burdens of complications that must be dealt with.
Tears fall to the floor, scurrying to claim all floor space as their own. In a final burden of fate, I release myself from the drowning, and move onward and upward. My brokenness today comes from the thought that one day, the inevitable is going to happen, and one of us, either my husband, or myself, will pass from this earth, leaving the other one, standing alone on the shoreline. That, just scares the crap out of me...I do not want it to be him, nor, do I want it to be me...but endings never happen that neatly. The love I have with this man is something I cling to...........for fear of it one day no longer being there...for one of us.... when the other is gone...AND, on this day, without recourse or reason, I swell with the inevitable course of one of our deaths. No matter how far off from now that time is for one of us, it will still be too soon when it arrives!
heavy thoughts on
this summer like day!
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