A Hiccup

It seemed like such a perfect lazy Sunday.   We went to the last Farmer’s Market and wandered around the
local hardware store looking for baskets or some other solution to contain the
tide of scarves, hats and gloves the always seems to overwhelm the winter coat
closet.   The afternoon was
spent lazily with a glass of bourbon, a book, and slowly cataloging the library
through Library Thing. 

To reiterate, it seemed like a perfect lazy Sunday. 

Which is perhaps why I was quite overwhelmed by whatever
erupted in the evening.  There was
a storm, a perfect storm of emotion, fear, anticipation, angst, tiredness, and
frustration which seemed to suck all life out of the house leaving nothing in
its wake.  

Of course things quieted down.  I still don’t know exactly what happened, I suppose some
kind of stress-related implosion of hopes and fears mingled with worry over
upcoming doctors appointments.  I
still feel somewhat shocked and bereft, like some big hole has been pulled out
of the center and only the fringes remain.  There was the eruption, the reaction (not my finest moment),
the withdrawal and huge sucking sound that followed in its wake. G remembers
that he was very angry yesterday, but he doesn’t remember what he was angry
about.  I really can’t say,
couldn’t say even if I knew.

Once again all is quiet, and surface-calm, the calm-smooth
surface of every day life.  And yet
that feeling of fragility remains palpable, as if everything could shatter in
an instant.  Life revolves
endlessly, an endless stream of days and activities.  But this life is like a ring floating in the void.  One misstep and I may fall off.  I am both repelled by that inner void
and irresistibly drawn toward it.  I
must stay toward the center, allow this narrow path to stabilize and widen.

If I look carefully I see that there is something in that
center, not merely an absence, but something that is taking root.  It is not quite evident what may
develop, and yet there is that palpable sense that something will fill
void. 

Still we tread softly. 
Appointments cancelled and rescheduled prolong the wait.  I choose to seek the path of optimism,
that the delays are but little bumps on a path to sunshine.  The other sees each delay as a
precipice that must be crossed and the increasingly number of obstacles only
confirm the suspicion that all is lost.   I must not fall into frustration myself.   I must keep striving toward the
light while holding on dearly to make sure that I don’t lose anyone in those
chasms of despair.

There are moments it is easier.  A shared bowl of popcorn: Sitting side by side, fingers
tracing paths through the salt on the bottom of the bowl.  They touch.  Reassurance returns.