Resting and Peace
Joey departed for Detroit this afternoon. Someone who was very special to him passed away. Kinda makes my newly kitty-nibbled house plant and 3-hour final last night seem trivial. And of course they most certainly are. I have no real problems. I am healthy (and superstitious, as I knock on my formica desk), have a rather bulbous cushion of constant love from a darling man, an only moderately dysfunctional family, an adequate social pool of interesting and lovely beings, a semi-tolerable job with a host of perks and an outstanding gpa, trimming the hedges of my real career path. I get my catharsis from music and movies and occasionally books when I have time to read about something other than pedagogy. Each limb of my being is extended and soaking in Palmolive or being tickled by a feather. I’m green when it comes to loss.
There are plenty of people I have known that I would be perfectly content with not seeing again for the rest of my life. Some who have known me intimately or put forth varying degrees of effort to do so. Some who I’ve loved, in the most loose translation of the word, from the sidelines or through my rose-colored glasses, the sometimes-victims of my circumstance, my introjects. There are others that seep through. They claim whole chapters in your life and remain a vivid image amongst all the clutter. Those who, if lost, can shake the foundation of one’s head, heart and soul. I know that that is how Michelle was to Joey.
