The last week has been a dizzying round of events, at least in comparison to my previous life. Visiting with a multitude of friends at the World Community Film Festival, always an inspiring and thought-provoking event. This year the Watershed Sentinel had its best year yet at our table. (Hope to see you all next year!)
We had a lot of work this week at the magazine, including an important meeting and training an intern to replace lost staff.
A heart-warming visit with Don where he laughed and ate all his lunch while he tried to figure out if we could stay together at his place that night. I thought the lack of reference to going home and referring instead to “his place” was a healthy step forward.
I left with a light heart for a girls’ night with friends, eager to reclaim me into their lives and into the world of laughter and activism. Wonderful but a bit tiring.
The next afternoon we re-converged at Don’s “complex care” ward, and went to hear some music which one of us was playing. I was astounded at how many people i knew were in the building at that time. It was starting to feel friendly and comfortable.
But then they played The Rose, “I say love, it is a flower, and you it’s only seed.” Don, oblivious — I think he doesn’t understand words in music anymore — spent the entire time speaking earnest rubbish, plotting, as far as I could tell, on the means of getting me to “take us home so we could be together tonight, just you and me.” I lost it, barely controlling my tears, and left as soon as we got him down to his wing again. At one time, for many years, that had been “our song.”
Nothing extraordinary in any of this, but when i got to my place I wept again. Perhaps I need to take it slower, a little less activity and a little more quiet time. I am still on the edge of some pretty raw emotions.