I am learning to just be. And it�s surprisingly hard.

I have been living the last two years in a state of combat readiness. There was the death itself (for months afterward �surprises� of any sort completely unnerved me), and nothing has been easy or smooth since then. There was the house to sell, and the relatives to battle, appease, cajole, entice, beg, nag and finally evict. There was the insurance company that wouldn�t pay. A dependant child to support and send to college. And now another house to sell�

It doesn�t really feel like my life at all. I�m 31, and I barely remember my last two birthdays. A lot of the decisions I�ve made during this time � to buy a house rather than a condo or continue renting, for instance � I would not have made had so many things been different. Don�t get me wrong though. It�s not regret I�m feeling. It�s just�

Remember that scene in Twister where Helen Hunt and Bill Paxton are driving through the storm on this country road when cows and tractors and sheds and houses start falling from the sky? I feel like I�ve been on that road continuously for two years. Only there�s been no Helen Hunt telling me which way to turn. Sometimes, I�ve guessed correctly, but I�ve been slammed around just as often. I look at myself and there are so many dents, so many bruises�

Now, I find myself in a lull. I�ve settled everything that I can up to this point: The last of the estate property is listed and awaiting a buyer; the first trial date with the insurance company is set for March; the college years have begun; and I have successfully avoided the relatives for months now. Perversely, however, I feel strange with nothing to rail against.

Could it be that I�ve stumbled into normalcy?

I remember normal � vaguely. And it could be that�s what this period is, but it feels so unfamiliar. It�s like wearing someone else�s jacket or driving a rented car � it doesn�t yet feel quite as casual a fit as it probably should be.

I find myself trying to build a routine: Mass on Sunday. Quilting on Monday. Therapy on Tuesday. Law & Order on Wednesday (duh!). And so on.

But it just feels like I�m marking time � trying to inject singular events into the march of days so they don�t blur together. And I can�t yet tell what I�m marking the time for.

Children scratch days off a calendar in anticipation of Christmas, birthdays, summer vacation, etc. I can�t tell if I�m marking distance from tragedy or counting off the time between lightning strikes.

Because part of me knows that quiet, serene, stable Normal is a place that I can go to visit, but too soon my visa will expire. Life�s unfair like that.

---

other Austin stories	all my yesterdays	about me	send to a friend	e-mail andy
Get emailed when I update! Enter your email address: Powered by NotifyList.com Diaryland