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Range Of Emotions

Swag woke up early this morning. A nibble at a chord, swat at the tassel hanging from my cane, a perfectly executed step on my groin and the gentle rumble of a purr by my ear, followed by the high-pitched meow that finally got me to rise. It is now an hour later. 

I've already had my morning breakfast of fresh fruit and peanut butter. Hot coffee, some almond milk and my new iron pill. Still not sure how suffering from post-op anemia was an oversight by not only my surgeon, but the nursing staff and the rehab facility. Ten days with no iron supplement, other than my multivitamin and now, this morning, I've already had four times the recommended daily allowance. No direction as to how long to use this medicine and what to watch out for. Doctors! 

No, I will not segue into a diatribe about health care. We'll leave it as this. I have friends who will die. I have friends with children who will suffer and possibly die. I have friends with parents and grandparents whose lives will be cut short. That's my argument and it's for them, not for my iron deficiency.

I expected a call yesterday. It didn't come. I'm alright with it, but will it come today? I expect certain things from certain people and I suppose foolishly. I am told by one friend, my expectation of others, is steeped in my altruism, but that is not a common trait. It sounds egotistical, to even write that, but I'm trying. I was not always this way. Selfishness brought me unhappiness. Altruism brings me more unhappiness, but with a greater sense of morality. Trying does bring a calm that guilt negates. One day the puzzle will make sense. Right?

I awoke to my morning reading. Friend's posts I missed. Some funny, some boring, but some infuriating. Two people, who day in and day out, give advice to others, but fail to realize that they need only to heed their own and every problem they incur on a daily basis will disappear. The torment they create within their own lives is right there, staring them in the face, but pretend it's hidden. All for a like, a comment or in some odd way, even more importantly, to be ignored.

I am about to be 47. A useless age. An age society tells me should have me finishing a second decade of matrimony or well into my second marriage. Seeing my kids off to college, or at the very least, high school. Complaining about my 401K, my vacation plans or the brake light on my second car. I should be arguing with the landscaper or the co-op board. I should be sharing articles on how to hold a baby seat, make flying easier or simply telling tales about my baby monitor. I've none of this and in many ways I have no interest in it.

I sat outside yesterday to eat dinner. Annoyed by my landlord's disregard for shared items. Their items, so I keep quiet. Cardinals darted in and out of the trees and a ground hog frolicked along the side of the some high grass. The sun wasn't setting, but had begun its decent. There was brief serenity, until the sounds of diesel engines startled me out of my trance. I briefly imagine the new layout anticipated and thought briefly how different it would be if it were mine. Not jealous, but thinking practically about how better to use space, and time. Still hours from any friendships, my mind wandered off and then went about my business. Doing dishes, feeding my cat, washing up for bed before daylight was gone. 

Today, I'll be distracted by construction I'll never benefit from. I'll gripe about noise, the cat's inability to enjoy his day and the presence of others within their own home. I'll read about sports, politics, film and more menial tasks people feel need to be shared. I'll briefly check the classified, wondering what I can do with my new found parts. I'll realize my knees are much worse than I thought and try not to let that hinder my process. Nearly 47 and I'm spending my day like a new graduate, but one who lacks the enthusiasm brought on by naivety. I realize few enjoy a career, or a job of any sort. I've been lucky, but it didn't pay the bills. Now I have few, but even less money to pay them with. It's dwindling, as is my time here. No, not on Earth. Sadly, that is a slow, painfully slow journey. For those who say life is short, your immeasurable bliss is my envy and I am not an envious person. I just wish life would speed up a bit or that I may share your joy for the rapid movement of the day. A circuitous route, as my recently departed friend would say, but it's not about the road taken or not, but simply being lost. Metaphorically of course. 

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