life in this state of near suspension is not all that complicated. i am in a retirement community, doing my laundry, but have forgotten to wash the shirt i wear almost every day at my mother's bedside. i am washing some others though and the most important thing, some socks. we eat well. we hang out with my mom in the last days of her life. we talk to her and speculate how much she understands.
but i've been away from home for three weeks, and it's getting a little long. i'm getting people to do my job. i'm hoping my family holds together back there without me. i'm in suspension. i feel like the world is pushing forward without me.
i still keep up on the news. i try to read some too though that has been in spurts. i have stopped creating anything at all, and that's really bad. i write this but have nothing to say, i'm just here, suspended. waiting for my laundry. in a quiet room.
the weather actually got warmer, but it occurred to me: in this place, it's hardly ever freezing. almost never snows. the sun is a regular, even in mid-january. rain is an absolute rarity. and people are used to it, they like it. i went to buy a snowshovel once and they laughed at me. one guy said, where you goin, michigan?
we can see mountains on every horizon. the town is up against some huge, beautiful ones, and they have snow on them. others are off in the distance. the ones that el paso are up against, they are just down the way. all of them are dry, though i suppose they are cold enough, that if it snows once, in say late december, that snow might just hang around up there for a while. for a month or more. there's a big difference between say, 4000 feet and 8000 feet. the snow will still be there at 8000.
i could turn around and go back. my sister and dad are getting used to the situation; they need support, but it's wearing on them too. we are all suspended. life has come to this point, where we are sitting in this room. and there's not much point bringing up pleasant memories from the past, although we have them. it's just talk, and it, too, is suspended.
but i've been away from home for three weeks, and it's getting a little long. i'm getting people to do my job. i'm hoping my family holds together back there without me. i'm in suspension. i feel like the world is pushing forward without me.
i still keep up on the news. i try to read some too though that has been in spurts. i have stopped creating anything at all, and that's really bad. i write this but have nothing to say, i'm just here, suspended. waiting for my laundry. in a quiet room.
the weather actually got warmer, but it occurred to me: in this place, it's hardly ever freezing. almost never snows. the sun is a regular, even in mid-january. rain is an absolute rarity. and people are used to it, they like it. i went to buy a snowshovel once and they laughed at me. one guy said, where you goin, michigan?
we can see mountains on every horizon. the town is up against some huge, beautiful ones, and they have snow on them. others are off in the distance. the ones that el paso are up against, they are just down the way. all of them are dry, though i suppose they are cold enough, that if it snows once, in say late december, that snow might just hang around up there for a while. for a month or more. there's a big difference between say, 4000 feet and 8000 feet. the snow will still be there at 8000.
i could turn around and go back. my sister and dad are getting used to the situation; they need support, but it's wearing on them too. we are all suspended. life has come to this point, where we are sitting in this room. and there's not much point bringing up pleasant memories from the past, although we have them. it's just talk, and it, too, is suspended.
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