When suspicion approaches certainty, context matters more than confidence. Concerns transform into worries, fear becomes terror. Desire leads to disappointment. The key to survival is adaptation; adjusting to conform to what the circumstances require. But an overabundance of available approaches to a situation can lead to paralysis. Endless possibilities tend to convert choice into confusion. Calm becomes chaos. With too many options, tranquility morphs into trouble. Clarity turns cloudy. Fewer options simplify complexities.
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He had heard the story a thousand times before. It was so deeply etched into his brain that he could repeat it, word for word. And he could replay each and every emphatic expression paired with those words. It was not just the one story, though. He told dozens of them; maybe hundreds. He knew them all by heart. How could he not? Only by closing his eyes and plugging his ears could he have prevented those tales from taking up permanent residence in his head. Now that they’re there, they inhabit his dreams and his memories. They claw their way to the top of his consciousness, the same as a drowning man claws his way to the surface of the water, in search of air to breathe.
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Calls are not returned and messages go unanswered. With no fanfare nor explanation, a half-century friendship quietly fades and disappears, exposing the fragility of permanence. The disintegration reveals reality: shallow spring-fed pools, pretending unlimited depth, drain quickly when their sources run dry. Unbreakable bonds wither, then snap like thin, dry twigs. When such tight connections dissolve, hidden decay may have been the culprit. More likely, though, the issue was one of semantics—a casual companion mislabeled as fast friend; an acquaintanceship masquerading as something more.
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My hair is getting sparce and my skin is getting thin.
My time is running slower than it ever will again.
And as my body ages, minutes fly like days.
And weeks go by so quickly, months slide by in a haze.
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Work continues today on the remodeling project. Grout applied to tile for the backsplash. Still no faucets to supply water to the kitchen and bathroom sinks. Still no operational sink drains, so even if the water was available, the sinks would be unusable. And still no cooktop. And no doors on cabinets and fronts on drawers. There’s more to be done. We are told it will be finished before Wednesday. I feel like a celebration is in order; something to inaugurate the new kitchen. But I am not sure I am yet in the mood to cook. It’s more that I don’t have the stamina, actually. Or the strength. Kitchen remodels should come with a chef.
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Creativity has drained from me for the time being. So be it.
