Friday, August 18, 2006
The digital display remembers the surname and first initial even though there is no message. I stare at the name and nod acknowledgment, certain he'll know I got the message he didn't leave - thinking about you, miss you.
Me too. I miss you too.
I've come home feeling almost beaten. A last minute email from the Acting President, "we have maximized enrollment for the fall." Up 12%. I'm trying to process what that translates to in terms of demand, the sheer number of new records to be entered, the crush of people needing something right now or better yet, yesterday.
On the bus, anxious, overwrought fantasies play out in my mind. I see myself standing at the main desk some few weeks from now, multi-tasking straight into cardiac arrest, or almost worse, starting to sob uncontrollably, until they have to usher me out. She's fine, she's fine, she just needs a little air. I know that after a "stress leave" no one would know what to say to me. I tell myself I have to put a positive spin on this, stop projecting ruin into the future, but I'm looping it. Over and over - I don't think I can face this again. I figure I'm due for a good Friday night cry.
Instead, when I get home, I pick up the message he didn't leave and think about how he mistrusts words, how he thinks he always says things wrong and hates to speak to voice mail. I think that my being "a verbal person," as he puts it, adds to his discomfort. But then I usually hear the things he doesn't say, too. Like I wish it was different. That doesn't mean just us, but so many things...
We are in accord there, too.
It helps to know that he was here. It reminds me that there is something more worth my energy.
I figure instead of crying, I'll sleep off the day - and wake up somewhere else.
The graphic above is the hobo symbol for: This is not a safe place.
Posted by LJ at 9:13 PM