My Time Away
On most any afternoon I am unavailable between the hours of one and three.
Don’t call me, I won’t answer.
Ringing my doorbell or knocking on my door is a waste of your time……..there will be no response.
I am deadly serious about this,
Just ask the people who have tried to enter.
Leave me alone please, this is not your time, it’s mine and I am unwilling to share.
By this time of the day, I have had enough.
I need a respite, a breather of sorts.
I have been awake since six, most of the mundane chores have been done, responsibilities met.
I have made the calls I needed to make, and the hard physical work around the house is done for the day.
I have put my two hours of hard labor in, my body feels it, there is a sense of satisfaction, it is time to stop.
And perhaps more tiring and draining and surely less satisfying, I have had my share of the news and world events.
Exhausting, exasperating, disturbing, just too much to take in.
Nonstop bombardment of my good sense and understanding,
an attack on optimism and hope.
There has been time with Morning Joe, perhaps a listen to The Roundtable on WAMC, and some midday time spent with Andrea.
Enough.
You have said enough!!
I have heard this all before.
It is simply crazy-making.
“Please just stop” is all I can muster by the time Andrea signs off.
I am exhausted, beaten up and down.
You have robbed me of my enthusiasm for staying in the present.
I am again reminded of what a disaster we have made of this.
Time to check out of this hotel.
So at one o’clock, there is really no decision that needs to be made.
There is never a “what to do now”.
I truly have had enough for the time being, it is simply time to drift away.
A period of rejuvenation, replenishing, and nurturing a tired body and mind.
The space I retreat to is bathed in sunlight and cozy to the core.
It is safe, secure and protected by an invisible shield that everyone knows is not to be penetrated unless the place is burning down.
And it is where Max spends his day.
He understands the sanctity of this space.
He already knows what I try to relearn everyday……..it really is about solitude, warmth, security, and the absence of most thoughts.
Max is warm, soft, and welcoming.
He knows what is out there and what I have been exposed to.
Often he looks at me with the expression of “I told you so”.
He knows what time it is and what I need now.
Slowly getting up, he makes just enough room for me to settle in.
Of course this is a give and take.
For this warmth and softness, there is a price.
Snuggling close to my body is his part of the arrangement.
In return, there is the expectation of petting, stroking, and kind words to again let him know what a special place he holds in my world.
That’s my part of the deal.
This will go on until I begin to drift away, when things abruptly change.
If you picked up on my suggestion that Max is not ordinary, then this will not surprise you.
He knows when I begin to drift off.
Proven time and again, he simply and suddenly ends this phase of our agreement and heads for safer pastures.
He is attuned to my fading away process, when it is just beginning.
And he knows what is to follow, which is enough to move him along.
Always disappointing to me when this happens, I understand.
He has learned early in his time with me, that distance at this time is a wise strategy.
When I am gone, so is he,
That is also part of the arrangement.
Unfortunately for me and Max, what has transpired in those earlier hours today and days before is not left at the door.
That invisible shield that keeps others out, does not keep out all the stuff.
It doesn’t work that way.
Too much has been taken in,
So much needs to be processed which could never happen on a conscious level.
With the ensuing blows and assault, there needs to be a time to de-escalate, if not heal.
So I understand this function of fading away, beyond my need just to escape.
It is also a time to regroup, put the pieces back together to take on the barrage of the remaining hours of the day. I do not portend to be a restful sleeper.
This down time is anything but a time of inactivity for me.
That process of regrouping must involve physical twists and turns as well as all types of involuntary movements.
All necessary and normal I am sure, but not pretty to observe or be exposed to.
Max has learned all of this very early, the impressions formed, lasting ones.
I am sure at some point, there was a “what the fuck, I’m out of here” moment.
He clearly knows when this is about to begin again, and he is “out of there”, pronto.
But he also knows that I count on him to be there, that my respite is much more satisfying with him around.
So, gone, but not really, just relocated to a more distant, safer space within this comfort zone.
I can count on this, and it is reassuring indeed to return and sense his presence and feel the warm of some part of his body resting against mine.
Then, for a moment, however brief it may be, all is well.
Nothing else matters and there is this great reluctance and aversion to leave this space, to voluntarily re-enter that uncertain other world.
But I do, with somewhat renewed hope, however questionable that may be.
Chin up, chest out, so to speak.
I am leaving, but not Max.
As I have said, he knows better.
Always there is a questioning and somewhat sad look on his face.
“Just why are you doing this again?”, is probably what he is thinking.
But he knows with a great deal of certainty that tomorrow, same time, same place, I will be back.