Lately,
I’ve been in a bit of a funk. I’m not adjusting to all the
changes we’ve encountered nearly as well as I would like. Part of
it is how undone our house is. Part of it is how alone I
feel. It’s weird not meeting up with friends for coffee or even
chatting often on the phone. The realities of moving, I
guess. And part of it is our "Constant Eight Year Old."
He’s everywhere. All the time. He never shuts up.
He’s doing great working from home–but his mother? Not so
much. Or at least on every other day. Like now, he just
walked into the room and said, "Do you, by any chance, have the guts to
play RISK with me?" I don’t know about guts, but I have enough of
a brain to know that’s not a
very good idea. No, there is never a dull moment and never a
quiet moment. It’s the Boy Wonder Channel: all day, every day.
Same as it ever was.
Which has led me to lament to IZ (who else
is there to talk with about this?), "How did I get here?" The
60’s may have had their Bob Dylan. But we had the Talking Heads.
How do I work this?
Where is that large automobile?
This is not my beautiful house!
This is not my beautiful wife!
IZ
and I pass each other throughout the day and mutter under our
breath, "This is not my beautiful house. . ." It’s become a bit
of an anthem. How did
we get here? It’s not a bad life. It’s just so isolated
that lonely takes on a different hue–that subtle shade of gray
surrounding me like the fog that rolls in off the river. It
is beautiful here, this is my beautiful house. But I’m still
asking, "How did I get here?"
Last night over dinner, IZ
snatched up my new Antrhopologie catalog which happens to feature
a very lovely family in all those equally lovely clothes, and
says, "Now THIS is supposed to be your life. Four darling
children and a svelte husband!" Without missing a beat, Boy Wonder
exclaims, "Hey, you did want four kids!" I just smiled across the
table and nodded. (four kids, who was I kidding?) And then Boy
Wonder says, "Does that mean you wanted a svelte husband too?" IZ
and my combined laughter left Boy Wonder wondering what he had said
that had been so funny.
And I ask myself, how did we get here? I don’t know. What I do know
is that in the long run, we are happy–if a little isolated, if a
little disconnected. We are still laughing at the unfinished walls, the undone laundry, the undone selves that aren’t as svelte as we would like. And we are laughing together.
Letting the days go by
let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by
water flowing underground
Into the blue again
in the silent water
Under the rocks and stones
there is water underground
In the meantime–it’s the same as it ever
was.
