It’s happening again. Someone I love has packed their bags. You’d think since my hearing loss I’d be used to it by now, but the truth is, it still hurts like hell.
One feels as if you’re worth ten cents a pound discarded like an old shoe, after waiting for it to finally drop, seeing its coming.
First communication lessens so it’s harder to make plans.
Busy Busy Busy…is the chronic excuse, just with other people they’d prefer to be with than you. You immediately know it’s due to your altered state of having to ask to have things repeated and, could we go to a quieter place? You’ve just become too much trouble and not enough fun anymore. And on occasion speak loudly, though unintentionally and always severely apologetic, still an embarrassment across the board.
The tears I’ve shed may become legendary because I really love this person whose own faults have never remotely deterred me.
But on a brighter note, someone who’s been absent unexpectedly showed up with flowers in a limo no less, like a knight in leather pants and an Electric Lady T-shirt, to whisk Helen Keller away for the weekend for a belated birthday celebration.
In my nightgown, it being midnight the hour Sir Lancelot travels, thought for a second before saying her usual no, packing her vintage overnight bag flying down the stairs not waiting for the elevator. Montauk here we come, where we spent the nicest two days at a private house, on the beach where I read, drank Old Granddad Sours, my knight’s specialty, while he cooked wild salmon and fresh corn on the grill.
We were all alone except for a discreet woman who came while we slept to replenish our needs. Think room service on the ocean. They say, when God shuts a door he opens a window. Well this time, he blew the roof off the place.
I kept crying I was so happy.
The simplicity of it soothed my deepest feelings especially when he sang, Oh Susanna, to me on his guitar, and said, I was still the prettiest, funniest, sweetest thin girl he knows, which could have been whisky induced, but we’ll take it anyway, even on the rocks.
I came home rested and restored, my sadness put aside, sitting down to pen this essay.