A week and a half, school’s out

I know that, but it still came as a surprise when Laura announced it. She’s in charge of much of her summer, but I need to follow up on my commitment to find a personal safety program I can approve of. I need to get a grip on driving regulations, too, though I think my personal rule of “teenagers can’t drive teenagers” will suffice.

I had a one year checkup this week on my hearing aids. The fancy little bits of electronics replacing the pair lost on the red bus. I found a one year check up on the rest of me of interest too, at least to me. It’s a recap of what I don’t have back, and never will.

A sense of self. The me who had something to contribute. I read everything; I remembered it. I made sense of it. Conversation! I talked about what I read. I knew what I intended to say, and said it.

A body in time and space. Don’t think you can cast off twenty five pounds and not miss it! I didn’t have it to throw away. It’s what holds up your skin. I think of our old friend Mary Jane. She spent a month in the hospital getting a pig valve in her heart, “but one morning I got out of bed, just for them to weigh me, and I was a head to foot wrinkle!” Yep, that’s how it works.

The deep trough through my skull. Hair still won’t grow in it.

A job. Still bitter about this loss. So much income, present and future. I like money. This was taken away by small minded and stupidly obstinate people. I need to let it go. I can’t. On the other hand, I no longer give a rat’s ass. Like all else, it is what it is.

Every day remains on the calendar, to be dealt with. I used to stay in bed until three in the afternoon, when school was letting out. Now I get up at eight in the morning, like I have something to do. Occasionally I do.

Spring is coming on. I could go for the mail, except I picked it up on the way back from breakfast with Lynn. I would like to go out every day for breakfast, but I don’t have enough friends. Most of them still work.

I need more friends. Too many of them died last fall, essentially at once. It’s damn hard to forge new relationships. There are strong words involved. “Forge,” for instance. Both parties need to put effort in. 

My friend Carol and I laughed about that a bit ago. She left winter behind, moving to South Carolina. She’s finding new friends hard to come by, too. “Acquaintances, yes. Friends? Well, it’s only been two years,” she says. “No one yet I would call in the middle of the night.” We laugh.

If only more loom parts would show up. I still can’t put on a warp!