Monday has arrived. Here it is, a new week. The rainy foggy morning has enough chill in the air to remind me it’s autumn, already October and there are holidays ahead to plan. I lace up my boots wondering where I’ll find the energy for all of it. One foot after the other, eh? Every walk, every morning, serving as a living metaphor of persistence and momentum.
I sigh to myself, have another drink of this coffee that will be waiting for me on the other side of my walk through the rain and fog and darkness. I grab my cane, tuck my handbag out of sight, and save the beginning of my writing (I’ll finish it later). I stand, stretch, and set off down the trail, visible only within the circle of light provided by my headlamp. Another metaphor, I guess, and I walk on thinking my thoughts.
I get to my halfway point glad to be wearing long sleeves under a favorite heavy baggy sweater. I’m not cold, though my hands feel the chill in the air. I turn off my headlamp when I sit down on a convenient bench, and see hints of imminent daybreak in spite of the fog. My back aches with the arthritis pain that vexes me most during colder wetter weather. I mostly succeed in ignoring it. It’s not as if I can do much of anything about it that I don’t already do.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking a few minutes of stillness in the morning quiet. I’ve got a busy day ahead of me, and I need this quiet time for reflection and meditation to face it and somehow manage to get it all done.
I sit with my thoughts awhile. I’ve got some shit on my mind. I try to avoid minimizing it, or wishing it away. The way out is through. I consider the questions, the doubts, the unhealed hurts, and the stressors that complicate everything else. I try to avoid complicating things by conflating circumstances with the feelings about the circumstances. It’s an easy mistake to make.
… Life might be easier if I weren’t the sort of person who so very much truly wants things very specifically to be “easy”. lol It seems healthier than not to be able to laugh about that…
The fog becomes more dense as the sky lightens. I sit with my perception and wonder if it is an illusion. I sigh and let my mind wander on. There are surely more important things to think about. I find myself feeling regretful that it is so hard to find time alone. Going on 5 years in this little house I love so well, and I’ve still never spent a night home alone (or even more than a few hours, really). The Anxious Adventurer only moved in in July, and has already spent more hours alone there (taken as a total) than I have. My Traveling Partner has spent by far the most time home alone in our house (and doesn’t want or need all that, it’s just a byproduct of circumstances). Frustrating (for me).
I really miss the luxurious solitude that comes of living alone, sometimes. I don’t regret living with my Traveling Partner, it’s one of those things I wish I could have both in equal measure; the delight of his companionship and good company, and also my solitude. I don’t know how to make that work out aside from taking occasional getaways to camp or paint, and those clearly don’t happen at home. Before his injury, my partner’s work kept him home. Since his injury, it’s been the realities of injury, surgery, recovery, and day-to-day limitations (for now). It is what it is. It’s not intentional or in any way intended to limit my experience or prevent me meeting that need. It’s purely an unfortunate coincidence that the person in the household with the greatest need for solitude has the least opportunity to meet that need. It’s not personal, it’s just life.
I sigh. I would definitely not trade my beloved or one moment of the joy we share for lasting solitude. It’s true that I have to put some thought and effort into meeting this need. That’s just adulthood. I laugh silently and chastise myself – something about building character.
I sit wrapped in dense fog awhile longer. I amuse myself with imagining that I must create the day ahead from pure will and see it emerge from the fog as I do. A useful notion that encourages effort and discipline. It’s something to start with – and it’s time to begin again (already?). I take another look at these words, hit “save”, and “publish” and head back to the car to face the day.
Evening Light 