I’m sitting quietly at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. The car parked behind me is rather annoyingly playing their radio loud. Talk radio. Super annoying. I mean, I sure don’t care that they’re passing the time listening to their radio, but for real? Turn that crap down so no one else has to listen. I’m not here for that.
I sigh quietly and think about what it takes to “find peace”. It isn’t really a “finding”, is it? It’s more of a creating, building, and sustaining. There are verbs involved, rather a lot of them. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I focus on me, and this quiet moment. I listen to the passing cars on the highway. I chuckle when I think about “instant pudding” as an analogy. The point being that it isn’t actually “instant”, at all – just pretty quick, and relatively easy. (It’s also not very good.) I sit with that thought awhile.
My thoughts wander to my Traveling Partner, and I wonder if he finally managed to get some good sleep? He’s been progressively reducing the dosage on medications he’s working on discontinuing, and the process sometimes leaves him restless, cross, or unable to rest (or all of those things together). What a shitty experience! Night after restless night… I often wake briefly when he wakes, but last night the only thing waking me was myself, when I changed positions and inadvertently wrapped my CPAP hose around myself awkwardly.
The first hint of daybreak begins to light the edge of the eastern horizon; a new day. I sigh contentedly and, grateful to move away from the noise of the parked car behind me, I drive through the now-open gate, up the hill and park there instead. Time to swap soft shoes for supportive boots, and grab my cane. My knees have been giving me grief recently, and my ankle aches with every step more often than not. I don’t risk the walk without the cane these days. I’m still walking, though, and I am grateful.
I think of the powerful lesson of my late Dear Friend’s example; walking can prove to be a regretfully “use it or lose it” sort of thing, and over time, she lost her ability to walk with any ease, which discouraged her and caused her to walk less (and shorter distances), which caused the situation to worsen. That’s an oversimplification, and surely there’s more to it than that. Aging. Injury. Illness. Nonetheless, I think of her often, and our conversations about the lasting value of “staying on my feet”, and the very real risk if I were to stop walking. I keep walking, in spite of pain.
I lace up my boots, sighing and resenting the pain I’m in, as I stare at the smudgy beginning of this morning’s sunrise. I “turn my head wrong” and my headache reminds me rather quickly how rarely it’s not there. Fuck this headache. I’m grateful that I have an appointment for some care of my neck, later this morning. I know it helps.
I think about my Traveling Partner again, and hope that he’s sleeping. No good morning ping, yet. Rare for this time of morning, recently, and it seems an encouraging sign… but it could just mean he’s awake and grumpy as fuck and just not wanting to interact at all. Maybe he’s up, but only long enough to take medication before going back to bed? I wonder, and the wondering serves as an excuse to think longer about my beloved, though I don’t really need an excuse.
I sigh and stretch and look towards the horizon. It’s definitely time to begin again.
I’m not any more skilled at basic parenting than I am at caregiving. This shit? Also hard.
Evening Light 