She recently decided to resume speaking to me, after fifteen years of a resentment held. Something about this city; growth and change don't always coincide with clean time here. Could be the water...
We spoke, many things. There wasn'the enough time; there never is. It's what makes not wasting time so important. I felt her spirit in her space, but i felt her diminished condition as well. I shared her lunch, rather, I finished the roast beef from her open faced sandwich and her onion rings.
We spoke of the past, of continuing resentments, some of which I sought to redefine for her, some that were redefined for me on the fly, and some just left where they are. I wish only that she could have peace, but that's not up to me. It never is.
When I landed this time I was at De'ja's home. Things are much changed here. My son is truly grown, evidenced by the weight his shoulders bear. I say with some caution, the spirit here feels troubled. It feels fractured, as if a rift were in the walls themselves. I know the feeling, i've been there before. You cannot caution someone against things they must do to learn. But you have to try. You have to try. Sleep was had from exhaustion rather than comfort, and prayers were said with my heart in the next room, wanting some sort of grace in his/her/their lives. But that's not up to me either. It never is.
What remains? Keith hasn't answered, probably won't until later than I intend to venture. I am thinking I will hole up here, try to groom myself, make my way home tomorrow and start the process of doing the week. I'm sad, but that's okay. Times are rough right now, and life goes on. Up to a point. I thank my God for life, and for enough perspective to appreciate it more today.
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