"We're not sending up any white flags." I think the nurse said that. Or maybe James did. I don't remember. I just remember repeating it to my aunt when I asked her if she could come. And I was surprised when she did. Because hey, we weren't sending up any white flags. It was just intensive care.
"Her spirit is different." I didn't want that man to be right, because if what he said was right, what happened to me changed me in a way I couldn't deny. So I was doubly denying the assault. The emotional fallout I just pretended not to notice. Which is not exactly the same as denying it. It just goes along with denial. A companion piece, if you will.
Also, I never liked him. I still don't like him, even though I understand now that his intentions were probably good. I didn't want him to be right about me because he didn't know me and he had no right. I think he meant well, really. Other people loved him. They can have him.
I've been cleaning out the garage. I washed my car a couple of weeks ago for the first time in years. Literally years. I know, right?
I let her get good and dry before I put the top down. I drove to the grocery store on Friday because my sister didn't want to go -- well. She said she'd go, but she wasn't in the mood to put up with me wandering all over the store.
I said, okay, but that's the way I want to shop, so if you wouldn't mind moving your car...
I wasn't in the mood to be put up with. I find myself in that mood less and less these days, actually.
I got a library card on Saturday. The black and white movie I selected came in handy when I came home from a tea dance at the Elks lodge on Sunday. I poured myself a nice big glass of calm-down juice (otherwise known as cheap merlot) and curled up on the couch, falling asleep before the credits finished rolling and only waking back up when my sister came home from I don't know where.
Sunday night's milonga saved the day. And maybe the dance.
I don't know. I'm still considering whether dance was a mistake.
See? There's a lot of stuff spinning around. I'm putting it here just to make it stay still for a minute or two.
But if you ever want to be ridiculously, absurdly happy, just stick your car in the garage for a couple of years. Spend a couple of years relying on other people for rides every time you want to go anywhere, then yank open that garage door and drive your own car to the grocery store. You might cry. If you're a sissy.
I really don't know that much about you, but it's okay if you're a sissy.