Some comic relief

I drink great quantities of water here, but always feel like my hair will crackle off in midair or my skin will crack like mud that dries suddenly. The weather snapped chill. I walked around breathing deeply the cool, dry air thinking "We must find a way to make weather like this into some sort of food, I will eat nothing else!" The first few days here, it was rainforest-like. Now it's bright, dry, and high weather. I am left very thirsty and happy.

Today, I spent my afternoon restless. I paced the room. I traveled from window seat to bed to couch in the hall. I read, I picked up our room, I wrote email, I lamented my fatigue. I went to the bathroom four times an hour (I do drink a lot of water here), I went to the tea pantry more often to fill my water bottle.

I called my mother several times. I suppose part of my motives was boredom-avoidance. It was more than that, though. She hadn't replied to my emails. I wondered if she even got them; if she knew I desperately needed my stapler, blue sweater, prescriptions refilled. And then I wondered if she got my letter of apprecation after the last package from her with the Swedish Fish, book lamp, bunkbed lamp, and microwavable bowl arrived.

And I miss her sometimes. I miss my whole family.

Depending on who you are and how much you know of me, you know to a varying degree how much I was unhappy living at home. Let me state for the record: I was unhappy living at home. I had also convinced myself that (at best) I was not suited to live in close quarters with my family and (at worst) the universe had done a miserable job when it paired me with my family.

[Unrelated note: There is a guy around from the neighboring college with Asshole Eyes. I distrust and suspect him of all sorts of uncaring and reprehensible acts. But you know what I mean by Asshole Eyes? He carries a rank breed of pomposity in his eyes, and an almost smirk on his lips. I see him everywhere and an incorrigible part of me wants to slap him, just for his eyes.]

This afternoon. Right. I was talking about this afternoon. My family.

I miss my family in a strange way. I found a particularly familiar and realistic shot of my cat on the computer, and sighed and missed having him follow me hither thither. At dinner time, I missed ordering the pizza on Friday nights. I'm usually so busy here that I don't have a chance to breathe and realize that, oh yeah, I can't see my family anytime I want. This afternoon, though, with time by myself, I realized that they do matter to me. More than I ever let on, even to myself.

So I called my mother. And got voicemail. And hung up. And called later. And left a message on the home machine. And called again, at work, at home, at work. Finally, my brother picked up. He's never been so pleased to hear me. I would have talked to him longer, but it is my reflex to ask for my mother when I am calling home.

We talked about my classes, the weather, the stapler, blue sweater, prescription refills I need sent. I told her how much I loved the Swedish Fish. She told me how much she loved my emails. I told her I missed her. She said the house is quiet without me. I refrained from saying that it was quiet with me.

And then she started herself, and said "Oh! I almost forgot." She almost forgot to tell me the bad news. My grandfather is sick.

My grandfather has been sick on and off for the past few years. He had heart trouble that he refused to see a doctor about. Complications of his heart problems have given us a few scares. We stopped to see him before arrival day at college, and I was struck by how thin he looked. But he's been thinner since the initial health scares.

I started crying. This startled me. I have never been very close to my grandparents. I marvel at girls whose grandmother's are their confidants, and older friends. I talk to my grandmother about growing african violets. If I talk to her about anything at all. And my grandfather told me not to overdraw my checking account before I left for college. I've always been very fond of them, but not close.

But I started crying. And I've been troubled all evening. I snuffled into the phone as my mother told me there was nothing to worry about - it isn't cancer, they ran lots of tests, my father and uncle went down to help my grandmother out.

I love my uncle and father for this. They are superheros - they drop everything and head down to rescue my grandparents every time something bad happens. I love them for that. It is so classic.

"That's not the end of the bad news," said my mother. "You're so upset, maybe I shouldn't tell you." But I made her tell me.

The rabbit died. My brother dug the ditch in which it now lies.

Oh, the rabbit. I stifled some laughter at the news, which came out as a cough which I believe (and hope) my mother took as an expression of sorrow. Oh, the rabbit. The sedentary, biting thing. Even in death, my mother still confused it's gender. Oh, the rabbit. The wretched, caged up mini lop. My mother expressed to me her sorrow at it's passing: "It lived very long, longest of all rabbits, Margaret!" I needed some comic relief.

2000-09-09, Some things sad

before / after

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