It is beyond the mid afternoon hour. I am sitting against a high pile of pillows of differing styles and sizes, on my bed.
Earlier I visited with Mr FD in his hospital room. I drove through the McDonald’s drive though to buy him a large flat white, one sugar, to relieve the boredom of his day trapped in rehabilitation. Sunday, a day of rest and no physiotherapy for Mr FD, just a lost day in nothingness.
Homeward bound, I listened to the Book Show on RN radio. It is probably not called the Book Show, it probably has some snappy, witty, intellectual name to brand it, but to me it is the Book Show, and so it will remain. There was a woman being interviewed who indulges in roof walking. I guess it is one way to get your big jollies. The interviewer made a comment about roof walking bringing to mind a lot of self indulgent, rich, bored, Oxford twits of another era, and I found myself nodding in agreement. That said, she was enchanting to listen too.
Before that, there was a music show. A female, English acapella group sang their version of Bridge Over Troubled Waters. My heart skipped a beat, then two, as memories of teenage years and the depth of my enduring love for the song filled my emotions. It is the song I wish played at my funeral. I want it to be my last message on earth to those I love. I hope too, that it is how I will have lived my life.
A sunny Sunday afternoon, and yet I also felt myself plunged instantly into a dark hole. Too many years of running on empty, especially the last three. I am depleted. I have no reserves left. Every morning I wake with just enough to get through another day. I need the night to make it into the next day. But, every day is taking a little more from me, and each night delivering a little less than I need.
I wish for another world, parallel to this perhaps, where I could live an existence of quiet solitude, seeking adventure when I chose. Great adventures with happy endings, and warm cups of tea. But, life it not like that is it? Be careful what you wish for, comes into my head, but my wishing remains undaunted.
Perhaps a long winter’s nap is what I need. To lay my head down upon the cool, white cotton on my pillows and to enter a nowhere, nothing realm for an hour or two. To rise again another day…
Flamingo Dancer's Blog 
As I sit here, thinking about what needs to be done before our school year begins this Thursday, I understand exactly how you feel. I am exhausted from trying to get all these chores done before school starts, and yet every time I look up, another one appears. (Oh yeah, the auto registration needs to be renewed before the end of the month. And I need to take it in for a smog inspection. Sigh.) Surely there must be an easier way to live!
I hope Mr. FD is doing better. He didn’t ask for something more than a flat white? Steak and fries, for instance?
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How fast those vacation weeks went by!
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I wish I could give you energy through words, but I can’t of course. What I can say is I also love that song, and the sense of acceptance and toleration it seems to bring to my mind.
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This reminded me so much of a poem written by someone from my home town that I had to make an impromptu translation for you, I hope it makes sense: Men hvem sa at dagene våre skulle være gratis? (Kolbein Falkeid)
At de skulle snurre rundt
på lykkehjulet i hjertet vårt
og hver kveld
stoppe på gevinst?
Hvem sa det?
Hvor hadde vi dét fra?
Hvem sa at livet vårt
skulle være lett å bygge ferdig?
At mursteinene var firkantede ballonger
som føk på plass av seg selv?
Hvem sa det?
Hvor hadde vi dét fra?
Der var piller for alt: nerver,
vedvarende hoste og anemi.
Men hvem sa at snarveiene
støtt var kjørbare? At fjellovergangene
aldri snødde til? Og at nettopp vi
skulle slippe å stå fast i tunnelen?
Ja, hvem sa det?
Hvor i all verden hadde vi dét fra?
But who said that our days should be free?
That they should spin
the wheel of fortune in our hearts
and stop
on a price every evening?
Who said that? Where do we get that idea?
Who said that our life should be easy to build?
That the bricks
were square balloons
that would place themselves neatly
Who said that? Where do we get that idea?
There were pills for everything:nerves, coughs
and anemia
But who said that the shortcuts
would always be open
That the mountain pass would never freeze
That we would never get stuck in the tunnel?
Yes, who said that?
Where on earth did they get that idea?
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His name is Kolbein Falkeid, btw!
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I so understand the desire to escape – and I’ll read to escape, vanishing into history (right now it’s a rather delicious biography of Henry VIII).
“seeking adventure when I chose” – is this not the reason why libraries were created?
The contemporary world is sometimes just too much to take.
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I feel your pain. You actually put words in my mouth. I am trying to swim and not sink but some days are harder.
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i often think Rip Van Winkle sounds like an ideal life
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It’s a wonderful song 🙂
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