Sunday, July 06, 2008

fog

The day started out cool and lovely, after another night of thick, uncompromising, and wholly unnecessary despair. I sat outside and drank my morning cup of hot tea and listened to the ramblings of weekend news radio. I even worked on my freelance writing invoices in between surfing the Web and reading up on the real news and the un-real as well. The weather turned from perfect to a heavy rain storm sometime after lunch and my lazy hazy day became even more glorious as I was unable to do any yard work in the downpour, so I enjoyed the men's tennis finals at Wimbledon. I am no fan of tennis, but it was a very engaging match and the perfect excuse for not doing the inside chores that called out for attention.

They have been ignored yet again. Perhaps tomorrow they will learn to sing a louder song or a more compelling tune...

I have been doing a lot of thinking lately. The 4-day weekend and my current inability to sleep for more than 20 minutes at a time, day or night, has made my mind an interesting place as of late. Thoughts of my paternal grandparents have monopolized my late evenings for a fortnight. I can speculate why, as family, holidays and good-byes weigh heavily on the mind of one who has spent so much time considering lineage, but it has been interesting to revisit these memories as I lay awake at night, so many years after they left this mortal coil.

My grandfather had a small basement workshop area, that was entered from the garage of his Upstate New York home. It was dark, cool and moist, and I remember the stairs and the smell and the feelings of being in that place. He had a neat and frugal organization, which struck me--and is an odd thing to recall, as I was less than ten, perhaps even younger. But yet I hold that in my consciousness. To have gone down there in that private sanctuary would have been a special thing, as it was rare, and so for me that memory is especially joyful.

The other memory invading my near-slumber is of Grandpa Bud's last hug and the well-wishes he gave as we left before moving briefly to Belgium. This too is a joyful memory despite the fact that it is my final one of my grandfather. He died a few months later while we were still away. But I will forever remember that hug, the wonderful words and the wave as we drove away. I wish that all people were able to have such great memories of the goodbye.

Not everyone gets to say goodbye. And my missed goodbyes are painful and raw. And for some reason these are the things infiltrating the dark of night and causing the daytime fog. Tonight I am hoping to banish these grey monsters and replace them with the little pink ones. The pink lovelies of hellos, and the warmth of a good night's sleep.

Perhaps tomorrow the fog will lift and my brain will again function, if but a bit, and I will be able to focus on the important things like life coaching, dental health, party planning and real estate.

...no wonder my brain is favoring the fog.

Meghan Wier
Author Writer Web Consultant

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