Daybook, v.03
Last week’s dispatches, July 19-25
19 July
Sunday. Colour me get-off-my-yard grumpy but I do not enjoy threading my way through a crowd of mall goers at high noon. I know I needed the exercise after yet another buffet (another buffet! Keep me away from them until I have recovered the full use of my digestive system) but surely there are less punishing ways to move the body. If I have to dodge one more person pushing a tiny dog in a stroller, or an influencer dancing for a reel in the middle of where one should be walking, I may need to be escorted off the premises.
20 July
Monday. Woke up with pain shooting up my right shoulder and the uneasy sense that I am making several mistakes at once, none of which I know how to correct. Where is the instruction manual for my life? Thought by forty I would possess the holy grail of Wisdom and ComposureTM, a closet full of kaftans, sarcasm by the gallon, ability to not care, not to mention a reliable understanding of what to do next. Instead, I have accumulated a mountain ton of good books and increasingly specific aches. Suspect everyone else has also been improvising.
21 July
Tuesday. Why do I keep wasting time watching this impeachment trial? Every new spectacle confirms what I already know, and still I sit here waiting for someone to remember that the country is not a stage and its people are not props. I don’t know why I keep thinking it will all get better. Perhaps hope is merely another civic affliction, resistant to all available evidence. As they say: elect clowns, expect a circus.
22 July
Wednesday. Thinking of my grandfather driving along España. Remember gripping the seat, bargaining with every available deity. Him, laughing and saying brakes were more of a suggestion. Grief returns, my old friend, making my small terrors tender. What I would give to sit beside him again, frightened for my life and complaining the entire way. I miss you, Lolo Jerry. Happy birthday.
23 July
Thursday. Odysseus took years to get home because he kept offending gods and becoming entangled in avoidable complications. Now that’s a life trajectory I can relate to. Wonder if the gods are displeased with all my wandering or merely exhausted by it. In my defence, Odysseus had divine interference. I have anxiety and a terrible sense of direction. Would that I could blame the sea.
24 July
Friday. Right knee in ruins after yesterday’s adventure. Apparently one cannot simply climb things at my age without consequences. Have spent the day limping theatrically and making small noises whenever required to stand. Youth: departed. Dignity: pending. Goodness.
25 July
Saturday. Woke up from a nightmare. Clawed my way back to my body and screamed myself awake. How many more of this? Ended up spending the rest of the wee hours at my desk trying and failing to clear my mind. How do I write my way out of my panic and horror. No other refuge but my beloved, his voice a beacon I will always turn my head towards.
Dear heart! Do you have access to a good physiotherapist? Hope someone can help you feel better soon. So sorry you’re in pain. You write about it so delightfully.