Thursday, May 7, 2015

Desert Places

I'm in a strange place.

I wondered if you were going to comment on it. Are you familiar with it?

I said it was strange.

Well, there is strange and then there is Strange.

.........I'm sorry... I have no idea what that means.

That's all right. I'll explain it to you. Why don't you relax and get yourself a snack? Or something.

Or something? Really? ......... Hang on a second. I have some Oreo cookies in there. I'll be right back.

Where's the milk?

Hang on.

...........

Do you suppose strawberries would be good with Oreos?

They're good with milk.

Right. I think I'll pass on those after all. You were saying.

There are strange places that you've never been. Then, there are Strange places. These are places you know and have been, but don't recognize or they don't feel right.

Huh. . . you know. . . I don't think that's an official Webster entry.

Hush. We've talked. He's fine with it.

So... I'm in a Strange place?

Exactly.

O.k.

Now, what's bugging you about it?

{sigh}

There you go again. I thought you said you couldn't do that? 

I'm bugged because I've recently felt overwhelmed with sickness and responsibility. The house is a mess. My health is punishing me. The yard work needs doing. Things are piling up. I'm tired, slightly depressed, frustrated, and lonely. I miss Jerry. I miss my family. I miss my life.

Obviously, not strange places for you.

Gee, thanks for noticing.

You've known for a long time, without my pointing it out, that this is your lot. This is your path. There is no alternate, at least, not one that is acceptable to you. 

Not one that is acceptable to you.

That, too. Still, when given an opportunity to take different paths you often sit down in the middle of the road and refuse to move. 

I don't want to make any more bad choices.

So you would rather wait for them to come to you?

I'd rather they go around me.

............What is really bugging you?

That I'm so thankful for everything anyway that it hurts. It is very painful to be thankful in the middle of chaos. To look at your life in shambles, and mine isn't so much anymore, and think how grateful you are for the shambles. To see all your dreams and hopes and aspirations turn to dust and still ....

Still what?

To still love you more than anything. To know that in the middle of the desert places of my life you remain. It is too much.

It isn't all.