The summer I was 19, I had moved out of the dorms, and was living with a couple girlfriends, the first time at a house on my own. That August, we decided to go together down to Colfax Avenue in Denver, where we all got our first tattoos. Mine was a peace sign about the size of a quarter, right on my anklebone. For those of you who don't have any experience with them, tattoos typically start out with a single needle to outline, and then they switch to multiple needles to fill in color. The single needle feels like a hot knife going through your skin, especially when it's right over bone, with no fatty cushion to soften the feeling. Four needles, on the other hand, isn't so bad. The area getting colored gets numb pretty fast. My tattoo artist was a little more than halfway through the outlining process, and I was finally able to distance myself from the discomfort and relax, when he got a phone call. He talked for maybe five minutes, during which time all my nerve endings came out of their little comas, and all sensation returned. He hung up the phone, and went back to work with his single needle. It hurt twice as bad, having had the break in the middle.
I put the man back on a plane today.
A whole lot of variables are up in the air now. Originally, the idea was that his vacation would be past the halfway point of his assignment, so that when he went back, the additional separation would be much shorter, and seem to go faster. Now everything has changed, and absolutely nothing is certain. There is still a slim chance he could be home on time, but I don't dare expect it. It's almost a lock that he will be later, but none of us can guess how much extra time he will get. I really don't want it to be equal to the time we already spent apart. The first eight and a half months were awful. And tonight, I'm sitting here thinking about how hard it was to get numb, to get into a routine of being completely on my own. I focused on this blog as a way to make the days pass, but without losing time and wasting a whole year doing nothing. It was so hard. I don't know how to make it through two thirds of another year... or more.
I guess the only thing I can do is keep on keeping on. Find my routine again. Focus on the little things that got me through every day last year. We are getting a new roof, so I can watch the progress on that, to start with. I can focus on getting back eating the right food, now that the holidays and his vacation are over. I started a bone broth tonight, and I have filled my fridge and pantry with as many good, non-GMO fruits and veggies I could find. I can pick back up the projects I put aside when I cleaned the house for him to come home, like the quilt. And I can pour myself into the ghost story I started in November. Maybe by the time winter is over, I will be numb again.
No comments:
Post a Comment