We are here. We’re on vacation. It’s funny how all of the things you want to get away from follow you wherever you go. I suppose there’s a lesson to be learned from that. Deal with things. Fix things. You can run, but you can never hide. They will seek you out. Those troubles are boogers.
Our trip has been fairly uneventful. The condo is nice. The view is fabulous. The drive was exhausting. I’m reaching for words here, aren’t I?
We have been on the road since early Saturday morning. I read a book while we drove. That’s something I haven’t done in a long, long time. The book was an interesting concept, but it turned out to be a piece of pretentious drivel. The entire thing was written in question form. One question after another. Some of them made me think, but it was just too overdone and too cute for my taste. I imaged the author thinking he was really rather clever. I would give you the author and title here if I wasn’t too lazy to get up and walk across the room. So, yes, for the first time in about three years, I read a book. I once used to read well over a hundred books each year. Maybe this is some small step in the right direction.
What else? I rode in the car for a long, long time, and I have read a book. That’s about it. I wish I could slap myself and bring myself back into the world of the living. I’m not crabby. I’m not happy. I am. Just am. That’s it. You might as well prop a corpse up in a corner and call her Pam.
Tonight after dinner T, Emily, and I sat on the balcony looking at the moon over the ocean. (Doesn’t that sound normal? Anyone looking in would think so!) Below us we could see people walking along the beach with flashlights, and I remembered. I suddenly missed the boys with all my heart. I missed my little boys. Yes, I knew my big grown-up sons had no interest in traveling on a vacation with Mom and Dad. They are happy to be home with a fridge full of food and no one watching the clock. I missed my little boys from past years on the beach. I could so vividly see their white shirts and bright blue eyes as they headed down the moonlit path with flashlights in hand and Grandpa following happily behind.
My dad loved the beach. He called himself a “bronzed god” as he soaked up the sun. I could feel his peace as he stared out across the expanse of water. It was he who introduced me to my love of the beach, and he shared that love with my children. Now he is gone, and it is here, at a place he loved, that I am feeling that loss once again. He is missing so much! Life is too short, and we waste so much of it on senseless, mindless activity.
Tonight, I sat looking across the water as the tears streamed down my face. It made me even sadder to cry here. I felt like I was dishonoring something that always brought me joy. The sea, the moon, the constancy of the waves coming back over and over to the shore, and I allowed myself to cry amidst all that beauty. It made me angry to think that my life has come to this. Nothing brings me peace. Nothing brings me joy.
There is nothing worse that recovering from mistakes that are your own fault. There is nothing worse than cleaning up a mess that you were stupid enough to make. BLAME. I should know. I have been on both sides. I have had terrible things happen in my life, but none of them compare to this mess I have created by my own actions. BLAME. It is difficult to help yourself heal when you’re so damn busy beating yourself up. Bereft. Destitute. Barren. Lacking. Worthless. Deficient. Nothing.
I sat and watched the people with the flashlights. They were not afraid of what was out there. They were not alone. They had their lights to guide their way. They darted about joyously. I could hear their voices float up to where I sat, though their words were lost on the breeze. They shouted to their companions as they made discoveries on the beach.
I felt alone and isolated as I watched from the dark of the dark balcony. Tears fell steadily down my face, but I made no sound at all.