Ok, So

 

i took a big, deep breath and i
told myself to look, really look
at what was going on around me,
concentrate on that instead of
the panicky, teary, stupid feeling.

so i did that. and i watched these
shapes and shadows with human form
converse, dance, drink, laugh. and
for a moment i got lost in that. so
many people trying, in some cases,
so desperately to have fun. some
having real fun, you could tell.

but the girl with the flowered pants?
a fashion no-no, hon. your ass is
just too big. she had on this cat-in-the-hat
hat, too. a party of some kind.

then i waited for glenn to get up and
go talk with the guys in the band and
i left. i walked home to my apartment.
that felt odd. and it frightens me how
i'm not afraid to walk home from the
war horse saloon. odd, huh? i walk
through the K-Mart parking lot and
under the bridges, beside the river
for a little ways. just walk. fast,
like i like to walk. head up. confident.
because i really and truly am not afraid.

it was nice at my apartment. cold, but nice.
and of course i had to pee. i get mad at myself
because i know i don't have water, but i always
have to pee there. this sounds funny, but my
apartment misses me. it does! it wants me
back there, singing at the top of my lungs,
cause that newlywed couple moved out and
the other side probably won't be rented out
again.

i wrote a very, very long letter to Wendy.
i cleaned up my computer room and listened
to every James Taylor cd i have, including
my favorite, One Man Dog. Carly Simon's
HotCakes was played also. and i went through
the cookbooks i've stolen from my mother.
(hey! remember last year when they took the
watermelon off my porch??? we're even!)
i have a deep and special love of cookbooks.
i left a huge collection at home in Michigan.

and i touched the faces in the photos of my
family. my sons in their little league uniforms,
my grand kids. i miss those pictures.
i miss that apartment.

so when glenn showed up at 2:30, knowing where
i was by instinct and experience since i used
to do that all the time when i lived there,
i was in a much better mood. the gray, scuttling
clouds of depression cleared and i laughed when
he caught me peeking at him through the blinds.

and i feel better now. i felt really bad. i
did something and changed how i felt. i like
being able to do that. i wasn't always able to.
in fact, this is only about the third time i've
been able to do that. but i think i'm catching
the hang of this living stuff.

it's about damn time, dontcha think?

denise

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