The Foot Thing And Other Miscellany

The foot thing has not been miraculous as I first thought.  Didn’t take more than about 3 days for the “improvement” to fade.  The regular pain found a new friend, the chafing and constriction of the new addition.

I’m trying not to outright doubt my doctor, but it’s pretty tough.  Can’t do the running and jumping thing very well right now.  It hurts a little during, and a LOT afterward.  The tough thing is that this pain doesn’t really restrict my movement unti AFTER the movement.  Like a brick wouldn’t hurt much until a second or two after it fell on you.  A little while later, it’d REALLY hurt.  That’s kinda what this foot thing has turned into.

And other things?  Work is work.  I’m tired most of the time again.  Mopy, even.  I’m intent on changing that, but it’s not something with which I’m finding much success.  I get good stuff done.  I get pretty good sleep.  I take care of me.  Just ain’t feeling the oats, I guess.  I even eat my green beans.

Sure, it’s probably just wear-out from almost a year of straight work.  I don’t have the play or the peace with my family.  I don’t have much to “live” for when not in the office.  I live for talking with my girls or sending them the over-and-over-notes on the email, of course.  And for my GPBC and my Favorite Microwave Burritos.  But I don’t think that’s the same.

And all my personal worries and wants and doubts, of course.  But I’ve experienced all these plenty of times before.  So maybe I’m worn out.  I spend too much time missing my girls (though I’m doing other things at the time, which is weird). 

I spend a LOT of time thinking of them.  Probably most of my time.  They are a strange part of most of what I do.  Work (tedium and important stuff) includes pauses to consider how I would tell the story of the event to my Wife.  Breaks, well they’re just packed with high-intensity missing-ness.  Off-time?  Mostly introspection, deepthoughts, prayer, study, but they all circle round the family. 

How would I explain this to Molly.  How would Bo like this one.  Can’t wait till Gwenny is old enough to talk about this, what a bobblehead we’d get from her.  Bunky wouldn’t get it.  Anika would.  Stuff like that.

It’s good to be on a monorail with thoughts of home, I would think.  But it ain’t, I guess.  At least not in a way that’s good for my mood.


Here’s a pair of what I’m thinking right now.

Postcard From There

And too afraid to make sense of this

That would probably come out as nonsense.

To say how much I miss

That sense of you

Where I could feel through walls,

See your thoughts through your eyes.

You see I lost parts of me.

And I can’t bring them back.

But I can’t explain to you how much it means to me,

For maybe you don’t see the loss so hard

And how much I die

When I recall what I cannot.

I trundle about

On my peg-leg of reality,

Shuffling my fingers across the shuttle,

Weaving the means to scratch by.

And it seems sometimes

That this is all I have,

All else scattered to four winds.

No passion.

None of what I was.

Just gray morass of breathing.

Of peering from apprehensive eyes.

Fine on the skin, real and tangible,

But empty as a dried pomegranate,

And hard.

And if that is real life?

I want to be fake.

In The Bitter Wind

Kiss no more

In the bitter wind

The biting wind

Of winter’s deep

Beats mountains down

And hardens the soul

With sparkling halls

And its frozen cloak

No shadows lurk

Within this dream

Awaiting summer

And the healing pools

Of tears and wishes

That fuel our hearts

Rejoining loves sundered

By the icy shards

Embrace my love

In the blessed peace

When the ice has fallen

To water pure

And all is warm

Under the sun

Steal a tiny breath

Between the vicious storms

When comes the day

At the winter’s edge

And the moon rises high

In balmy nights

The gods will wake

And unveil the stars

Quell the biting wind

Warm our icy hearts


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