Paisley Pup

Easy

Herself speaks.

The other night, I had a conversation with another friend of Cherished Friend, about Cherished Friend's forthcoming departure to a Place Far Away. And she pointed out that this change will be hard on him, and that he would miss us.

I don't know why it surprised me to hear her say so.  Perhaps I have been focusing so much on the benefits to Cherished Friend of this new change, that I have not looked at potential negatives for him.
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I have always had trouble putting myself in other people's shoes. I can understand theoretically how someone might feel under various hypothetical circumstances (given enough time to contemplate the situation), but it is difficult for me to grasp how someone is feeling in any particular moment unless there are very clear indications that I can see. Hidden motivations always elude me. Why must people be so complicated?

Sometimes I think I might just be defective in my ability to 'read' people. It does not come remotely naturally. Perhaps I am on the autism spectrum? Or perhaps my own feelings get in the way of being able to comprehend those of others.

I try. It can be exhausting.

I've learned over time to read those closest to me: Beloved Husband, the Offspring, my in-laws, my siblings, my parents. It has sometimes been a surprising lesson in my own inaccuracy, though, and I have made missteps along the way. I do not trust my view of others' feelings to be correct. I do not really understand people, even those I know well.

When I contemplate someone as stoic/semi-Vulcan as Cherished Friend, it is doubly difficult to know what is going on inside his head. (Though I know it is a very busy place.)  I am sure he has feelings in there somewhere. He plays them so close to his chest and so quietly, though, that I may not see they are there.

I don't want to make the Divergence harder for him than it may already be, by mentioning that I will be sad to see him go; but I cannot say nothing, for I do not want him to feel as though it is easy to say goodbye to him.

I have always thought that I am easy to leave: out of sight, out of mind, carry on. I do not want him to experience the same sense of ephemeral significance. Nor, on the other hand, do I want him to feel guilty for going to chase his dreams. I just want him to know that he will always be my most Cherished Friend, whatever distance there may be between us. 

I think he may already know. 

And that is enough.

Reassuring Signs

I feel better, knowing that business are trying to protect us as they reopen. 

Walkies

They may both be frail, but they still enjoy a morning jaunt in the neighborhood.

Ride

Herself speaks.

It has been four months since Beloved Husband purchased his motorcycle.  He has enjoyed it tremendously, regularly going for rides hither and yon. He has gone with some buddies from work, and Cherished Friend has joined him on occasion. I am glad that Beloved Husband has had experienced and reliable people with whom to enjoy riding.

A few weeks back, I spent a Saturday cleaning the house while they were out riding. I envied them their freedom. And so, a brief discussion later, Beloved Husband had ordered appropriate riding clothing for me. This past Friday, I made my first non-essential trip into a store, to purchase a helmet. And yesterday, we went for a ride.

Because Beloved Husband is a novice, it would have been extremely imprudent for us to ride together. (Cannot put all the parental eggs in one proverbial basket, even if the Offspring are essentially grown.) Cherished Friend graciously allowed me to sit as passenger on his bike. And off we all went.
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Being on a motorcycle is a full-body sensory experience: the sound of the wind, the smell of the grasses and the onion fields and the fried-food establishments, the scenery flashing by, the feel of the road. The wind quieted the noise inside my head. The mountains in the distance reminded me of the drives I have taken to Points North in the desert, where there would be hiking in the mountains and breakfast at IHOP and rummaging in the used book store. Along the ride, the trees were in full leaf, and the crops included all sorts of green sprouts, and there was water in the river. There was an occasional dog barking, and a cat stalking across the road, and another motorcycle passing by. Beloved Husband on the road ahead or in the rear-view mirror behind, and I in the moment where I sat. All I needed to do was stay well seated and go with the flow.

I was a little concerned about sitting so close to Cherished Friend, because I know he has a substantial Personal Space Sphere and I do not like to impinge upon his physical territory. He showed no signs of discomfort, though, and it was a bittersweet pleasure, to be in his close proximity knowing that the Divergence is on the horizon.

It was a SUPERB experience.

I will look back on the ride as a shining point in time, when all was, for the moment, well.

457 to 460

Six

Herself speaks.

I was surprised this morning when Facebook reminded me that it is the sixth anniversary of the Unmooring. Usually May is a tricky month, with transitions that generate flashbacks to other changes including the Unmooring; this year, however, the days and weeks of Stay-at-Home/Work-Safe have blended time into a long, seamless stream of uncertainty from which such reminders are absent. It's a very strange state of affairs. 

It is hard, now, to stretch back through time and touch the tremendous grief that accompanied the Unmooring. Perhaps it is the current unease that renders that feeling unreachable. Perhaps it is the sound of the approaching Divergence that distracts from old sorrow. And perhaps, too, I have at long last come to terms with the Unmooring. Life, and I, have moved on. 

It might be time for me to look backward less, and to set some goals to which to look forward more. I am not sure what to do: I have tended to the needs of others -- husband, children, extended family, clients -- for so very long, that I feel a little lost. What do I want? What can I do for myself, without it impinging on my obligations to others? What would make me happy? 

I don't know. I have a hard time thinking about what I want. 

I do know, that it's easier not to be disappointed if you have no expectations or anticipations; and that much of my disinclination to set future objectives is borne out of a desire not to feel the sting when things do not go as I hope. The tasks at hand thus appear to be: learn to embrace the possibility of obstacles or setbacks, as well as to imagine alternative pathways, in setting and reaching goals. 

We shall see how it goes. 

I can't change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to reach my destination.