Things are different

Often unnoticed i am doing things differently since Don “moved out. “

First of course, the wording. He didn’t exactly choose to move, but on the other hand it was his disease that caused this cataclysm. In any event, those are the words i have found myself using.

But here’s more of the things i notice. Not things i am doing from deliberation.

* Making my bed every morning. Where’d that come from? Never since i decided girl guides was not for me have i made my bed every morning. Now it just seems like a good thing. Huh?

* Buying original art – not going nuts -only 2 pieces – but just buying stuff i want in my life. Never ever would have thought of doing that. Just suddenly happened.

* Singing aloud little chants and tunes. Suddenly i am living alone and the neighbours can’t hear with the windows closed. Who knew i was a secret bluesy rappy poet?

* Accomplishing large amounts of work in publishing without even noticing. And saying No to much of the endless make-work — the pointless petitions, meetings without purpose, indignant junk news —  that seems to be a hallmark of our times and used to dominate mine.

And, of course, sleeping in until 9 or 10 in the morning, partly because i seem to still need a lot of sleep, but mostly just because, for the very first time in my life, I can.

I hope there is more to come, because surely the price of all this pain should be some great flowering, enlightenment or more! But for now I am feeling the sun come round again and watching for the green shoots to emerge from the thawing ground.

4 months after i first wrote this post, i notice i am now calling it, “since Don left,” which seems satisfyingly accurate … he left on his life journey. I still visit him most every day or two but it is clear this is only a shadow of my man. Still him. Still trying in his totally impaired way to look after me. But he left on his journey – the one trip  we can only do alone.

His care for me is still evident. Questions about money, about the car, about the men, “Are they grabbing at you?” Not jealous.

And today, out of nowhere, playing with the forks and spoons, not interested in the food, but momentarily intent, “Are you feeling stronger now?” to which i answer, honestly, a bit surprised, “Yes, yes I am.” “Oh good, i knew you would.”

And we go back to playing with the soup and sandwiches, me blinking at that same strange intercept we have always had, for 35 years,  where the words seem as if they were random but they speak to what matters. The feeling of being in the presence of something, of the universe shifting into focus for those brief moments, an enormous syncronicity, and gone as my mind, agape, wanders weakly back to lunch.

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