Thursday, December 26, 2013

Around nine, Melissa called, she wouldn't be coming. No reason in particular, just that it doesn't feel right. I appreciated that she called, rather than simply messaging me or not showing up.

It left me at loose ends, my day was planned around her arrival and the dinner that I would make for us. I poured another cup of coffee and nibbled on the muffin that I had brought from Dad's, while staring out at the grey sky, my mind mostly vacant as I tried to avoid punishing myself. "You knew it would end like this, it always does, nobody wants you."

My default plan for when nothing works is to walk. Lately I've been walking a lot, mostly at night when I can't sleep, wandering the streets like a haunt. "I'll tramp the moors," I said out loud to myself, but it caught Wags' ears and he headed for the door. When coming to the village, I usually fill Buster's refrigerator with a few groceries, so I have something when I arrive, but this time I only brought last evening's dinner, some fruit and a sandwich that I'd made for yesterday's drive, but hadn't eaten. I heated coco, filled a thermos and put it in a rucksack with the sandwich and some fruit.

What I refer to as the moors, is a spit of land beyond town that leads to the ocean. Mostly salt marsh, dunes and scrub vegetation the area is criss-crossed with walking trails that wind their way around the marshes and several residences.

I'd walked for about an hour when I when I crested a dune and looked down upon the the beach. It was near high tide and the waves were about 2-3 meters high, but windblown from the brisk offshore breeze. I turned north and walked for another half hour and found  a partly sheltered spot to have my lunch. Wags, who had run about 4 times as far as I walked, curled up next to me, keeping an eye open for a handout.

After watching the water and sky for while, I started home, taking a more direct route. On the way, I bought some fish for dinner, some bread and a few vegetables. A the house I put things away while Wags slipped into a deep slumber. Feeling antsy, I left Wags to his doggy dreams and walked up to the café. On the way I stopped at Mirelle's, her shop was closed and the apartment dark, she must have gone off for the holiday.

Rain began to fall as I arrived at the café, lightly, but with fine drops that turned everything wet with surprising speed. Inside I ordered a glass of bordeaux, some cheese and bread. I intended to read, Doris Lessing's, The Grandmothers, but the book sat unopened in front of me. Instead I watched the rain, tears running down my cheeks, like the droplets on the window.

Kim

4 Comments:

Anonymous Robert Taylor said...

Been there, done that, got the tee shirt. Yes, it hurts.

7:18 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

*big hugs to you honey* "everything will be ok in the end. if it's not ok, it's not the end." is a fond expression of a friend of mine, and seems apropos for this... xo eb

3:13 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I've been thinking about this post. You use words so well I have trouble feeling what's real, like you're almost in the words but not quite. I assume that's what you intend, but that conclusion, tentative as it is, reflects the ambivalences you present in this blog. (Which is one of the few I bother with these days.)

Ambivalences are a form of mystery. They lend an aura of romance.

You don't sound particularly depressed, assuming the bits you've shared about that issue are materially true. Sounds more like you're reaching an age where you become more fixed. Multiple meanings intended.

This is sometimes the greatest loss. Some people don't survive the shift. Particularly a class of drinkers and addicts who can't stomach becoming debris.

I suspect you love yourself. - M

4:47 PM  
Blogger Kim said...

M, I probably love myself too much...

Presently, I'm experiencing a period of ennui about my life. I'm also grieving because Anne Marie, my closest friend, is leaving Paris. We'll still be friends of course, but the immediacy of sharing joy and sorrow with each other will now be digitally.

2:12 PM  

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