The winter creeps in, thicker white frost on the grass each morning. No real snow yet to speak of since that first couple of inches in mid-October that had the decency to melt quickly. But it’s coming. I now have a snow shovel and an ice scraper for Ginny. I have the snow blower mon beau-père kindly gave me. I have an appointment today to get Ginny’s snow shoes on, get her oil changed, and get the thing that sometimes rattles and clanks a bit checked out. The man at the dealership said my limited French was very good (I wouldn’t say he’s fully bilingual, but he speaks a lot more English than a lot of people in this region). I don’t know if he honestly meant it, or if he was using the compliment to keep me from realizing he couldn’t understand my French when I spoke.
I guess I’m as ready as I’m going to get for now.
It’s been a rough couple of weeks. I’ve had zero motivation to do ANYTHING, and the empty days have merged and blended until I feel like I’m trapped in the movie Groundhog Day. Of course, each passing day brings me closer to a time when I’ll once again share my home with my best friend. But at times, it’s hard to tell if a day has passed or not. Did I just awaken from a nap, or did I sleep through the night? Is this one of the days that matters? (Only Mondays – class , Wednesdays – class, and Thursdays – trash day, matter anymore. Oh CRAP! I’ll be right back, gotta run the trash out!…..and, back!) Or is this one of the other, nameless days when I’ll try to think of a movie I may want to watch and eventually decide it’s late enough to cook dinner for myself, all without ever putting on real pants or going outside?
It has only been just over a week since I last left my husband, but it seems longer, because the last visit wasn’t what we needed. Usually, when I spend the hours on the road required to share those few precious days with him, it recharges us, gives us what we need to make the next few weeks apart less difficult. This past visit, though, drained us even more, with my back injury, and the stress and worries and changed plans it caused. And now there are about four more featureless weeks to drift through before I’ll see him again.
I’m healing up well. I haven’t started exercising again yet, but I should. In fact, this blog is probably an effort at avoiding the nagging thoughts that remind me, as if I didn’t know, that I need to go downstairs, change into exercise clothes, and get on Le Monstre. I can go as slowly as I need to go, as slowly as my still tired and stiff back demands, but I’ve got to get a toehold, got to get moving again. Or…I’ve got hours of Ridiculousness to watch. Hours that will die easier as I genuinely laugh out loud, feeling simultaneously much closer to my sister (getting hurt and laughing at people getting hurt is a family tradition, and watching Ridiculousness was sort of “our thing”) and feeling the miles and months between us much more acutely.
I miss her. I miss my nephew, and my mom, and my friends. But still…
I try to be thankful. I am thankful that I have such wonderful people in my life, even if many of them are too far away in time and space right now. I am thankful that I have new friends here, even if I’ve shut myself away in isolation lately. I’m thankful that I can feel this pain, because it means I’m alive. This pain is temporary, and it only exists because I have something amazing with another person. He’s gone, but in four featureless, immeasurable weeks, I’ll be on my way to see him again. And I’m thankful that, this time, when I point Ginny at the Saguenay again, HE will be beside me in the car, all of HIS things piled up in the back.
Sometimes the last part is the hardest part. But 20 minutes have melted off the clock since I sat down to type this out. Twice more, and that’s an hour. A few more of those, and it will probably be time to feed myself again. A few more, and then I get to sleep. When I wake, I’ll be one day closer. Minutes, hours, days, weeks…they WILL fall away.
But for now, I have a date with Le Monstre.