There are so many 'firsts' now, first time dad goes into a nursing home for his own reasons, first time running all the errands, first time making all the calls coordinating parties, first time realizing they aren't following my life anymore. I have the workshop tomorrow. I find myself 'compartmentalizing' by default. The part of me that runs workshop. The part of me that runs errands. The part of me that isn't reflected at all, by them. The part of me that just runs.
Blisters are now the problem. It seems the fates are asking me to surmount continuous challenge of all sizes, even the new blisters from this morning. Oh, and I was up, up deliriously early, the pre-dawn breezes following me up Park where the other very early runners began at TY. Motionless and dark, the houses of the neighborhoods, the rushing commuters, contrasting as I tried, and tried to find a rhythm. I left the bandaids on from the other ones....the blisters from last week. A 7-8 miler that could have shaped up beautifully became a lame escape, walking the last mile easy, mad at myself, at them, at a lot of things.
The good thing about my anger is the energy it gives. Exhaustion settles in around the edges, but at the core I feel like a red-hot firecracker ready to explode on the scene. Watch out, get out of the way, mission to accomplish, mileage to run. Errands, old tapes of old times when telling them about my life meant something to all of us.
It is the saddest thing. If we chip away at it long enough, what will be left? Besides the tiny packages of their frail bodies. The loss of speech, hearing, understanding. The loss of mobility, connection, meaning. So it must mean something to me. I need to carry the story myself, and use it to fuel the deep need for impact. That somehow, no matter how hard, everything we do is a matter of great importance. We are resonating with our imperatives. And they will not give us up, if we do not give up on them.
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