TheBanyanTree: Stomry Weather

[Margaret R. Kramer]

We’ve been in a raging vortex of summer storms since the solstice.  A
frontal boundary has set up right over our heads and when it cools off at
night, the skies open up with pent up energy and release an amazing pre-4th
of July fireworks display of lightning, loud crashes of thunder, and
torrential rain that is usually only found in the tropics during the wet
season.

I left the windows open yesterday, didn’t turn on the air conditioning, in
spite of the soup-like humidity, and I could hear the rain slamming against
my house while I was trying to get to sleep last night.  It seemed like it
would never stop.  And there it was, 2.5 inches of water when I checked the
rain gauge this morning.

The clouds are still with us.  The humidity is a little thick, although it’s
difficult to tell, because I’m having one hot flash after another for some
reason.  It’s supposed to dry out later and the sun is going to come out,
and it’s going to be a fresh summer day.

I got my grass cut yesterday, in spite of sweating out most of my body
fluids while mowing.  I did some trimming, and then weeded out the gardens.
There is something so satisfying about working next to the ground, mixing
sweat and dirt.

Because of all the rain we’re getting and now with some summer heat, my
garden is thriving.  The tomato plants are growing tall and some of them
have small little tomatoes growing on the branches.  The green pepper plants
and broccoli and onions are doing well.  The rose bushes are huge and
blooming.  The daylilies are flowering, adding a nice orange accent to the
yard.

My garden and yard keep me busy on weekends, but I still haven’t figured out
how to fill the time.  When I was with Joe, even if I was pissed at him or
he was pissed at me and we didn’t see each other, I could still kind of
focus on him, and kind of plan my weekend around him.  

Usually we didn’t see each other during the day, but I liked cooking dinner
and having him over for food and wine.  The price was high, of course,
depending upon his mood, and sometimes I suffered listening to major verbal
diarrhea bouts just to have some company.

Now with Frank, well he’s in Illinois working on a power plant.  He works
four 10 hour days and two 8 hour days a week in blazing heat and humidity.
He’s a boilermaker and his specialty is welding.  He wears a special jacket,
long pants, and heavy shoes while working.  He says sometimes it’s so hot,
if he’s lying on his back while welding, his visor fills up with sweat, and
when he takes it off, it’s like dumping out a bucket of water.

And I just sit on my ass for my job.  No sweating allowed.

Frank and I have our weekday routine down to a science.  Text messages in
the morning, breaks, and lunch.  Then a little texting when we get home (or
when Frank leaves work, his hotel is about 34 miles away).  Then we have our
nightly call, which can last up to over an hour.

Weekends are different.  I don’t have the structure of my job to distract
me.  I’m busy on weekends, but.  I do laundry, clean the house, take out
trash, pay bills, work in the yard and in the summer, I try to go for a bike
ride or a walk or do something outside.

But I’m at loose ends.  This is where my mind is still mentally married.  I
miss having a partner.  Ray and I didn’t interact every second together, but
it was so nice to know he was there, somewhere in the house or in the
garage, or even if he was doing work for someone else wasn’t in the
vicinity, but he was there.

Then we would come together in the late afternoon, to have dinner, to talk,
and finish up our day by watching TV or I would read, but we would be on the
couch together.  Or we would go to a movie, a concert, a play, or even a
walk through the neighborhood.

Frank works on Saturdays.  We text each other as usual, but I’m needier for
his attention than on weekdays.  If he doesn’t text or call when I think he
should, I get nervous and anxious, no matter how busy I am.

Usually when Frank gets off of work, he drives back to the hotel, cleans up,
gets something to eat, and on Saturday nights, does his laundry.  He’s just
as exciting as I am.

Sunday is Frank’s day of rest.  He totally collapses.  He will spend most of
the day sleeping.  It’s difficult for me to imagine sleeping so much,
because I can’t, but then again, I sit on my ass for work, and I’m not out
working in the heat and humidity.


Sunday is my most accessible day, and Frank will text me and call, but it’s
not satisfying.  I’m getting used to it, but Sunday is usually a lonely day
for me.

I’ll work out and get some things done.  Probably today I’ll do a little
shopping and then go for a walk or bike ride somewhere.  But it’s not the
same.

I think about flying to St Louis to visit him on the weekends, but it
doesn’t make sense as he’s working one day and tired the next.  I would be
disappointed with a visit like that, and I think he would be, too.

However, many good things are coming out of our calls.  We’ve learned a lot
about each other.  We’re learning to trust.  We talk about our lives and our
interests and current events and the people who we work with.

And through all that talk, our love gets a little deeper.  I think about the
time he told me that he loved me.  The love was beginning, but it’s so much
richer now. 

He’s the only person I’ve ever met who actually seems interested in the
details of my job.  And it’s good for me to tell him about my work, because
it helps me understand it much better.  And I’ve learned a ton about power
plants.

He’s like Ray, too, where when he was here on Memorial Day weekend, he
started nosing around looking for projects to do.  He’s very impressed that
I change my furnace filter every year.  I tell him about my frustrations not
knowing how to fix anything, and he gives me advice.

But then I cook for him, because he doesn’t cook, and I show him how to do
stuff on his computer.

He writes better love letters than I do:

Hi Baby, Your flowers are very beautiful. Your a excellent gardener. 7 days
until I see you. You make me very happy. Being close to you is a pleasure.
Talking laughing are so easy. It comes so natural.You make my day so
enjoyable.You are in my thoughts. Hopes that we become just like your
flowers. That we grow and bloom together into something that is very
beautiful.Love you and miss you very much, Frank

Isn’t he sweet?  Nothing is more romantic than a good love note.  

Next weekend Frank will be here!  He’s leaving Illinois on Thursday after
work.  It takes nine hours to drive here if he drove without stopping.
He’ll stop along the way and rest if he needs to.  I figure it will take him
12 hours or so to arrive at my door.  He’ll stay with me until Monday
morning.

I’ll definitely have a much better weekend.

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