TheBanyanTree: Saturday

[Margaret R. Kramer]

It’s Saturday afternoon.  It’s raining.  It’s cool.  The house is clean; the
last load of laundry is in the dryer.  The dishes are washed and put away.
I’ve paid the bills.

I started to mow the grass.  I got my neighbor’s front and back yards done
and my front yard finished, but then it started raining in earnest, so I
stowed the mower in the garage and came into the house.

The boys are with their mother and Asher isn’t home, so the house is mine,
all mine.  It’s quiet and I love the silence, but even after two and a half
years since Ray died, I still can’t get used to being alone.

It seems like only yesterday, if it was a rainy day like today, Ray would
probably be at his computer playing online poker and I’d be here at my
computer or maybe reading.  We’d be together while doing our separate
activities.

But I’m alone now and I have a whole afternoon ahead of me to do what I
want.   I’m not going to let the silence swallow me up and get me down.  I’m
going to find a use for it.

Frank is back in Illinois.  His shift has changed to 11 hours day/seven days
a week.  I would be so depressed, because I don’t like working that much,
but Frank seems to take it in stride.  He’s outside, welding, in 90+ degree
heat, wearing a welding jacket, which doesn’t allow “breathing.”  He seems
to thrive on it, however.  Me, I’d melt and then insist on coming home.

I’m trying to get used to being in a long distance relationship.  Ray and I
weren’t in a long distance relationship this same way, since we were both
married at the time we met, there was no march towards anywhere.  Then when
Ray told his wife he leaving her to live with me, well, then our
relationship became a long distance relationship with a short term purpose.

This one is a little different.  Frank and I text each other several times a
day.  He texts me “Good Morning” before he leaves for work.  He texts me
during his morning break.  He texts me during lunch.  Then he’ll text me
before he drives back to the hotel.  We email, too, and usually talk on the
phone for about an hour in the evening.

I never realized how nice texting is.  It’s so great to send a little note
and not have to make a phone call. 

It’s good to have this communication, but I miss the physical part.  Not
just sex, but being able to see the nonverbal cues while talking.
 
Trust is huge.  We have to learn to trust each other.  And that’s a process,
not a given.

But even though Frank isn’t here physically, it’s still nice to close down
the day with him.  I have someone to tell my stories to and I can listen to
his.

My heavy drinking neighbors, the young couple, had a knock-out, drag-out
fight the other night.   She came home from work and started screaming at
him.  He started throwing stuff.  Shoes flew onto the front lawn.  The
chairs from the deck flew into the backyard.  He kicked her planters of
flowers off of the deck.  It lasted about an hour and then silence.
Hopefully, that was making up silence. 

I’m planning on working tomorrow morning for a few hours.  Some of my
co-workers are coming in.  I’m behind in testing for this release and I have
some other things I could do, so I’ll go in for a few hours tomorrow.  My
boss almost started crying when I told him that since no one on our team
ever works on Sundays.  He wants us to look good to the client.

I’m hoping it’s not raining tomorrow, and then I can cut my backyard grass
after work.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at comcast.net
www.linkedin.com/in/margaretkramer

Corpse pose restores life.  Dead parts of your being fall away, the ghosts
are released.  
-Terri Guillemets