Another day...

Another day, stretched out before me like a dusty desert highway. I hear my breath, slowly in and out, in the empty room with the incessant “tick….tock…” of the cheap clock on the wall of my office, almost matching the thumping in my head but not quite- just off enough to be maddening. I turn on a streaming radio station, but the tinny pop music coming out of the speakers immediately conjures mental reels of my kids singing these songs, dancing awkwardly in the living room, all elbows and knees, so I turn it off. Struggling to focus on work when I’ve got thoughts crash-banging in my head like a mosh pit. My kids, my family, my future, my heart, my feelings, all smashed together and running amuck in my mind.

Sitting cross-legged at my desk, all the lights in the building off save for the tiny Ikea flexi-light bent crookedly across a pile of paperwork; I am mildly annoyed at the landscaping crew, cutting swaths through our yard and drilling their tiny gas-powered motor sounds into all of our hung-over heads. Last night was unpleasant, but only mildly so. I couldn’t stand the crowd of hipsters in what’s normally a calm, quiet bar. There were flashes everywhere of photos, indubitably being posted to Instagram before the flash could be blinked out of the eye.  American flags worn on headbands, T-shirts, shoes, socks…it nearly nauseated me.  We were surrounded by different establishments setting off amateur fireworks before the big show over the city, and during the explosions, all I could think of was people like Will and how probably less than a handful of people in that whole bar would even give a shit about a veteran killing himself. It made me intensely sad, sad for Will’s family and friends and daughter, and sad for these idiots surrounding me and the naivety with which they float through life. But then, I was that idiot years ago, so they must all find their way through their journeys and find their own sorrows and pains to develop as people.

I saw a guy at the bar who I had talked with on an online dating site. I ended up cancelling a scheduled date with him to go on my first date with Chris.  It’s so weird how the universe does that.  Sure, I knew the guy lived in Charlotte but I didn’t know I would ever actually see him- that’s kind of the beauty of online dating; the borderline anonymity of it all. The fact that you don’t have to have awkward water cooler run-ins with a guy you dated at the office or scheduling your laundry at weird hours so you don’t run into the guy you dated in your apartment complex.  There’s a very good chance that when you meet someone online and you’re not interested, you will never, ever run into that person in real life. Unless, of course, you’re at a packed bar on July 4^th with your boyfriend, with whom you’ve been bickering for days, and you’re generally kind of unhappy, and then yes, yes of course you’ll run into random guy from internet dating site. Of course.

The sun is beginning to come out now. It’s been raining for days, and I know that has something to do with my mood, along with missing the kids so bad it feels almost like that feeling you get when running (my mom called it a “stitch in your side”)…where it hurts to breathe in and out. My life is a like a deflated balloon, an empty ballroom, without them. They not only bring me happiness, they give me a purpose. I have no cooking, laundry, refereeing, bad-dream-shooing, skinned-knee-kissing, and so I am lost.

Today I’ll work…I’ll finish up some scheduled stuff and then make up a project to occupy the rest of my day. And I’ll go have a beer after work. And I’ll make the 40 minute drive home to take my dogs for a walk around the neighborhood…wave to the rednecks in building 10 that I always see at the pool, wave to Grayson’s friend William and his mom, wave to the maintenance guy on his golf cart, wave to the lady on the first floor with the fat Chihuahua, and then I’ll go inside, lock my door behind me, piddle around the house, adjusting this throw pillow or that picture frame, until I lay down, flanked by my two small dogs that don’t have the heat, substance, and softness of children, and stare at the ceiling and count sheep…or dandelions…or just numbers…until I finally fall asleep and wait for another day of it.