I feel old today, withered and past my best before date. Maybe I am old, or hormonal, or maybe it’s just that the weekend is finally over and there are only two teenagers left in the house. My son and his girlfriend… young, in love and with their whole lives in front of them.
I’d call it Post Teenage Weekend Blues, except I don’t always feel this way when my son has filled the house up with his friends. They are fun and they bring a breath of fresh change and constant activity for a few days. Granted I could do without hearing all the gossip through my bedroom window as they sit and discuss their lives on the balcony. I’m also more than a little relieved when the weekend is finally over and the house settles back into it’s quiet routines… and I know there will be milk for coffee if I go to make one. It’s just that some weekends I’m left with no doubt that I’m no longer young myself.
Their lives are in front of them while most of my life lays behind me. On days like today I can’t help thinking that I wasted so much of it. There’s no losing those thoughts today and I have tried. I don’t wish I was 18 again and I’m not playing the what if game with myself. I’m not filled with regrets for the past. It just feels like there’s not enough time in front of me anymore. That I’m selfish to want to live my future, to want life. That it’s wasted in some way when the young have it all in front of them.
I feel old today. Maybe sleep is all I need.
Image: Simon Howden / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Chocolate fudge on ice-cream. Red mini-skirt with those boots. Picnics bombarded by flies. Long distance relationships and waiting. Some things I can’t imagine without the other, some things just end up together, even if I wish they didn’t.
I wait for Chris to wake up with just enough time to say good morning before he jumps in the shower. Usually he’s out of the shower and rushing to get dressed before his lift arrives. Then I wait until he’s at work, taken care of his morning tasks and meetings and he has time to wish me good night.
He then finishes his day, heads home and it’s his turn… waiting for me to wake up. We wait for the day we’ll meet, then we’ll wait for the next visit and the next after that. We wait for the day we lose the LD in LDR. We even wait for video calls. I did manage to send him 10 or so seconds of filmed experiment with my new webcam before my poor old laptop decided to have a freak session yesterday. Sigh.
It’s been raining for days now. The wind has picked up and the temperature has dropped. I’ve gone beyond my love of rain
and have this urge to curl up in bed under the doona and leave the world on the other side of that rainy wall.
The feeling brings back memories of Canberra in the eighties. My first job out of school was as a Registration Clerk for a law firm in the city. That job title, in case you’re wondering, is a fancy name for a Glorified Gofer. Go for this, go for that. I have memories of walking the city centre in the rain with my umbrella, my carry-all and the list of places I needed to go. Every person out was in their own little world. The borders of each as clear as the dry space under their umbrella. Cold, rainy, blustery weather and every umbrella signalled the holder’s own place of safety.
The last few days my thoughts have repeatedly turned to that wished for and dreaded moment that every couple in a long distance relationship imagines… The Airport Moment. I’ve heard others call it this as well. Even my own son, as he prepared to visit his girlfriend in Sydney for the first time! So much for originality.
We’ve spent hour after hour, for months on end, eighteen months already, talking and sharing online. We’ve played games, watched movies, watched shows, shared stories, we’ve laughed and we’ve cried. We’ve become best friends. We’ve become important to each other’s lives. The one thing we haven’t done yet is meet in person.
MmmMMM, it’s raining today.
I Love Rain. Heavy rain. None of that bad hair day frizz for me. I crave rain that soaks within seconds, hair and clothes plastered to face and form. Rain that pounds without mercy. Breathless.
Nothing else exists. The world fades around me. I am, the rain is. As I come back to the world, I see everything renewed, the world fresh and clean again. As if the dust and grime of the past is washed away and the world waits for me to step forward into fresh hopes and dreams.
I only need to smell rain, that clean, fresh smell, and I’m transported to that moment where I step forward.
Alas, today’s rain was not that heavy rain of my heart… but, for just a while, it took me where I needed to be.
I’ve been feeling a little adrift this weekend as he has gone camping. It’s the first weekend in a year and a half that we’ve had no contact with each other. I’ve made no plans as this is still a part of the week of rest and relaxation I need, before we begin to work towards what’s important… being together. Besides missing him and my little Sleep Randomness problem I feel good. I made a breakthrough about learned behaviours this week in the lead up to his camping trip.
When he reminded me that he was going camping I became upset. So much had happened last weekend that I had actually forgotten he was going. I quickly pushed the feelings away and went on, but of course, when I push the feelings away I pull away and I wasn’t quite there after that.
It’s so noticeable now when it happens. “I’ll be camping tomorrow” he reminds me. Woah! Ouch, THAT hurt! Why did that hurt? I begin to shake. Oh lord! Something is wrong! I’m not upset about him going camping, so what is it?! I shake more. Tears begin to form. I. Can’t. Right. Now. The mind goes blank as it all gets pushed away. The connection between us is lost, I’ve pulled away.
End Insomnia! That’s a bumper sticker I’d buy, or maybe less of a Save the World kind of feel… Insomniacs do it better! Actually I don’t think they would, the mind is a little too numb to be better. Ohh, Insomniacs, there all night! Much closer.
Okay, I don’t really feel like an insomniac. I’d call it times of Sleep Randomness. Three hours sleep is still three hours out. Nowhere near the mind numbing almost week without sleep that I survived in my early twenties… more than a few times. Let’s not think about functioning at work.
I wrote the above and slept another six hours. Really, wrote it and my eyes started to shut. I almost didn’t make it under the blankets. Sleep randomness it is.
Image: Salvatore Vuono / FreeDigitalPhotos.net