End of the World

Inspirational song: In the Time of My Ruin (Frank Black)

We got a late start on our walk to catch Chinpokoman this evening. We watched a movie over dinner, and took off immediately after. It wasn't quite full dark when we got to our destination, at least not over the entire sky. To the north, there was still a pale golden glow and wispy clouds. To the south, it was the end of the world. Or at least as dark as that. The sky was darkly bruised green and the wind was whipping by the time we arrived at the new park walk. I regretted not grabbing a jacket when I felt little droplets of water in the cold air chilling my arms. I probably would have walked longer if I hadn't been too cold, but how great is it to be too cold in August, after struggling all summer with no air conditioning? Before I reached this age and needed this level of medications and supplements changing my body chemistry and temperature, I would have been miserably cold and complained the whole time. When I caught myself saying I was cold but I'd be okay, I thought about stopping and asking the roommate to make sure I hadn't been taken over by a body snatcher. I never thought I would say such a thing, ever. I'm always the cold one in the household, keeping blankets handy in every room, just in case I get chilled. Yet here I am, blissful on a windy, cool night. My, how things have changed.

The movie we watched was Seeking a Friend for the End of the World, and neither of us had seen it before. I'd recorded it off of one of those free HBO weekends, and it languished, hidden on my DVR for months. If I had known it was so good, I would have watched it ages ago, but I guess it came just at the right time for me. There were parts that would have hurt me too much even just a few weeks ago, and a few that still stung a bit. But we were both riveted and enjoyed the whole thing, even the parts that reminded us of our own personal pains. And then by the end of it, once I had noticed the similarity, I couldn't look at Steve Carrell and not see my neighbor's face. How did I not see it before?

Now after digesting the movie, I'm left feeling at oddly at peace with my pain. It still hurts, don't get me wrong. I'm still angry too. But I'm able to take a few steps back and look at the parts that tied me in knots somewhat dispassionately, and think that there might be a day when they fade. I don't know how long I have to wait, but there's a chance that I might scab over someday. The scars will be there until the end of the world, though.