Hello, Blog. Remember Me?

December 2, 2016 – Hello, Blog.  Remember Me?

With Sylvie, on Thanksgiving Day

Yes, it’s been a long, long time since I’ve posted to my blog.  I’m not quite sure why.  I’ve thought a lot about writing these past few months.  I’ve even scribbled some notes.  From time to time, I’ve been on the verge of writing a blog post but something has kept me from committing myself.  Fear of exposure?  Being unwilling to confront the confusion I feel?  Some twisted sense of virtue through self-denial?  I honestly don’t know.  Sometimes I’ve felt like withdrawing, just hiding in a “safe” place so I don’t have to deal with things I don’t understand. 

Maybe it’s partially a reaction to the change of seasons.  I recall, in past years, feeling a sense of impending doom as the hours of daylight grew shorter.  Ever since September, I’ve had to fight off the desire to burrow away until spring returns.  I’m usually okay during the daytime, so I’ve kept up with my activities – class at GMU, fused glass at the Workhouse, lunches with friends. 

There have been a couple of unwelcome reminders that I’m aging.  Back in September, I was touring a historic plantation in Alexandria with my friend Kathy.  When I was exiting the mansion, the toe of my shoe got caught in an old-fashioned rubber tire tread doormat at the bottom of a flight of stone steps and I tumbled to the ground, landing first on my right hip and elbow.  Although I was in some pain, my first reaction, after disbelief, was annoyance – this wasn’t supposed to happen!  I am not an old person!  Then I mistakenly assumed that I’d feel fine in a few days.  Hah!  It was more like four weeks before I was pain-free.  I spent a good deal of time practicing patience and developing an appreciation for the fragility of my physical condition.   

And just two days before Thanksgiving, I wreaked more damage on my poor aging body.  Actually, I was hurrying to catch a train in New York City’s Grand Central Terminal.   As I ran down the ramp, I suddenly found myself airborne.  Of course, a few seconds later, I crashed onto the platform, striking my shoulder and knee pretty hard.  For several seconds, I was too stunned to move.  I must compliment the EMT team at Grand Central.  They showed up right away, checked me thoroughly, and didn’t make me feel like a complete idiot for thinking I could fly.  Aside from a few twinges in my shoulder, I’m already feeling back to normal.  But I no longer take my physical health for granted.  I could fall apart at any second, without any warning – which makes me realize how remarkable Elliott was.  I doubt if I’ll be climbing up ladders and traipsing around Europe when I’m in my 90s. 

And speaking of Elliott, the finality of loss is hitting me hard.  I miss him a lot.  There’s so much I’d like to share with him.  He wasn’t here to see the brilliant colors of the leaves this fall.  He wasn’t at our Thanksgiving table.  He hasn’t seen Sylvie running and singing and dancing.  I think he’d be pleased to know that I’ve acquired some new practical skills, such as learning how to put air in the tires (and to take air out when I’ve over-inflated them).  It’s hard to accept, on an emotional level, that he’s not coming back.  And there are brief moments when coping with all the details of life on my own seems overwhelming.  Eventually, however, I step back, take a deep breath, focus on one thing at a time, and realize that I’ll be fine.