living by bluebird

The otherworldly, morning glory colored flash of these little birds has become something of a salvation for me of late.  They seem to appear just at the moments when I’m sinking into the quotidian morass.  Which, with personal glaciers melting, is assuming at times a large presence.

Life here is unbelievably difficult on a multitude of levels.  Lack of funds always complicates things but the reality of it in these parts is mind boggling.  Infrastructure on its last legs, for example, as in our phone was out again for almost a whole week.  It’s a 30 mile round trip drive to get somewhere where the cel phone works.  Need to go to the doctor? Sick, are you? Well, HOW’S ABOUT WAITING 60 DAYS FOR AN APPOINTMENT.  This last is for the Partner, whom I have resuscitated to a remarkable degree during this last illness.  He still wants to go to the doctor, however, so I thought, when I made an appointment for him at the beginning of all this and it was set for New Year’s Eve, how appropriate.  But, no.  Of course the doctor has no intention of being in the office on New Year’s Eve and the next appointment is a month away.  That only took being on hold for half an hour to work out.  Oh, well.

I realized during all the recent and strenuous diplomatic efforts, what with the car wreck, the broken finger, the wood fiasco, the MIA telephone, and all the rest of it, that the thing that really gets me down the most here is loneliness.  I’m a pretty strong individual, used to being on my own, never bored, lots of things to explore.  But you still need someone to talk to, goof around with, have drinks, what not. One’s life partner cannot be expected to meet every need, after all, although I must say he does a pretty good job when he’s well.  It never occurred to me in my wildest dreams that I’d go six years without making a friend.  (Well, there was one.  But she died.) It just seemed inconceivable that one wouldn’t meet like minded individuals, make friends.  It’s taken me a minute to understand that a big part of the anger and despair I feel in this place are about, precisely, having no one with whom I have a single thing in common besides being a homo sapiens. (There are, of course, lovely people with whom I am ACQUAINTED, but no more- like people who work in the grocery store or the post office, for example.  They always remark on how polite I am and how much they appreciate it.)  It has made me doubt myself, and also what with all the recent Fun With Large White Men? feel fear when I’m around groups of milling about people here, more often than not.  Let’s just say, for example, that I am actually dreading going back to the Laundromat of Doom.  What if the handless man is there again?  Will I be able to tolerate the ghastly Christmas music they play through January? I often come back from errands and have to look in the mirror to see if I haven’t changed color or sprouted antennae.  Maybe I’m green-striped, or something.  But no.  I’m still me, and that me seems to be acceptable to very few here.  A woman actually yelled at me recently in a parking lot, telling me I should go back to my own country.  Really?

It’s good, of course, to change one’s environment in order to learn what the world is  like in places you aren’t used to.  Sometimes, though, you really don’t want to know.  Thank goodness, then, for bluebirds! And, of course dogs.  The other night, I meant to say, God sent us a big dog, but what came out was: Dog sent us a big God.  That may in fact be the truth.

One response to this post.

  1. Fuck that laundromat, so much of this I can relate to, you’re a hell of a writer


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