I had my annual physical this week.
That's a loaded way to start the blog. So let me start over:
I broke my reading glasses yesterday. Had them folded into the neck of my t-shirt when I lifted Sadie out of the back seat of the Rover. I read that letting her jump down from the vehicle is bad for her joints and I want to prolong her life and health as much as possible.
But she's a big dog and somewhere in the process of hugging her to my chest and lowering her to the ground, my glasses got knocked out of position. I didn't notice until a couple hours later, after we'd walked and I'd concluded Saturday morning practice.
When I returned to the scene, my glasses were still there, although divided into separate lenses and frames. A car had ridden over them and crushed my conduit to the written word. I read constantly, whether in books, on my phone, or off the screen. The loss was enormous.
Monday morning I'll go to my optometrist and order a new pair. Yesterday I went to CVS and purchased readers for $32 dollars, which feels like an enormous price to pay for temporary glasses that are so poorly constructed I fear they will simply disintegrate and drop off my head in small pieces. I mention all this because I have been handwriting my fiction piece on a yellow legal pad. It's my afternoon project, something for fun when the rest of the writing day is over. But my handwriting is never the best under normal circumstances. Trying to decipher the scrawl while wearing pretend eyewear is almost impossible. The good news is that I'm writing. I'll take it.
Back to the physical. I had a check-up a few months ago when the grief was new and felt like I had lost half my brain. Let's just say the results suggested a man in crisis. Since then, I have avoided weighing myself, thinking I have probably splurged a little too much in the self-comfort category. But I didn't want any surprises when I stepped on the scale in the doctor's office last Thursday, so I weighed myself at home beforehand and was pleasantly surprised to find I had not gained ten pounds, but actually lost a few. When the doctor suggested I lose even more, if only for the sake of being lean and mean as I go forward in this world, I actually thought it was a great idea.
I have no idea where this newfound optimism comes from: finding the strength to write fiction, eagerness to take on a physical challenge, waking up without dread and anxiety overshadowing my morning prayers. But it feels good. Good enough that I cancelled a trip to Dublin this week. I figured I've done all the getaways and hiding I need to do for a while. Let's just stay home and sit with this thing.
Which is why I'm on the back porch once again, rain from a nearby tropical storm drizzling off the patio cover. I am still aglow with the amazing performance of my cross country teams at Friday night's meet. The girls won their race and the boys showed signs of being something special. I came home afterward and sat out here in the darkness, reveling in the sublime euphoria of watching the process unfold.
"Girls win," I texted to Calene's phone, continuing a tradition that has gone on for 20 years. But her phone is off and I don't know where to find it.
So I texted "Girls win" to her sister Cate, then informed her that I needed someone to text it to.
"Awww…that's awesome!!! You must not suck??? LOL" she texted back.
"I do not suck. My girls rock and roll'ed. Callie would have been so thrilled," I wrote back. Cate and I share a fondness for the ribald.
"I'm sure she IS thrilled."
I hung a Springsteen "Nebraska" poster this week. Had it rolled up in a tube since 1981. Finally got it framed. Feels good to inflict my own sense of style on the upstairs game room. I also think these broken glasses might be a blessing, a chance to stretch out and try a new look in the eyewear department. I am historically conservative with glasses. Let's see where this goes.
I am not sure if this upbeat mood is a one-off or the start of something new. But this week didn't suck. I'm sure she IS thrilled.
