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  • I looked at the calendar this morning to understand the architecture of time.

    It has not been forever, our life here, at the hotel and visiting the hospital, it only feels that way.
    I could get lost and feel the days slide into each other.
    The outdoor pool, at the hotel, was closed on the 10th of September, the day after we arrived, just in case I mistook this for a vacation.

    But look there, on the calendar, at September 1st, we were swimming at Ducktrap River, where it meets the bay, and the day was warm and clear.
    We were free in our lives and we knew it that day. There was lightness in our bodies as we propelled them through the water.


    **
    The apples of September have a snap and crunch, they sound like life being enjoyed.
    Yesterday, I was kicked out of the hospital room for eating an apple.

    This sounds both biblical and silly, and then King Lear-ish.
    I have to consider that I was being selfish for thinking that my company was needed or appreciated at that time.
    I was hurt, very briefly, but deeply, and felt a small version of some of the old wounds.
    But I could not linger on those feelings because I have no interest in re-enacting the battles of my youth.
    Also, I have all of my considerations going towards the well being of my Mother, who is a tower of quiet strength.
    I withdrew physically and mentally, but quickly came out of myself.

    **

    My Father is in a remote place right now, somewhere within himself.
    The first thing to return, post-surgery, is a more primal self, a wounded animal who contains a man.
    We are meat suits and prisoners of a flesh that is our ambassador to the experiences of life.
    Sometimes we get lost in the internal labyrinths, other times we can be aware of the light.
    The ID, the dark child within, can become unfettered from the guidance of the ego and the over-ego, and can grow to monstrous proportions and consume the energy of others.

    We are at a point in this journey where I cannot thank the nursing profession enough for the very hard work that they do.
    There is a time where families cannot cope with the needs of their own and on a bad day would crack with the strain.

    You get a hodgepodge of awareness and support from family and friends during difficult times. Life becomes an emotional patchwork quilt that needs a strong backing to hold together.
    Everyone is living his or her own life and sometimes there is not much that can be done materially.
    Emotionally there is work to be done but that is not the same, or as easy, as running an errand.
    Some people call every day and others are silent, often inverse to the importance that they have in your life.
    In the emotional lottery there is a big jackpot and many losers, it is not dollar for dollar.

    My Mother, sensibly, decided we needed to have some time off, to have some fun.
    It is hard to switch gears when the roller coaster of emotions and worry has been ruling our days.
    Sure, we have been eating and seeing family members who come through, but to see the world outside of this circumstance, we have not been exploring that.
    My Mother called an old friend who lived nearby and we went out for dinner at a place I had wanted to try and the friend suggested.
    Portland has a strong local food movement and enough creativity to make an aesthetic life possible.
    We went out without guilt, and with a sense that we need to enjoy our lives and live our own journeys.

    Today we are going to spend some time on ourselves too.
    And then every day thereafter, forever.
    As we approach the other end of this month, I look to the empty little boxes on the calendar, what do they hold?

    Penciled in: The return home.
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