Tear Day
This is about grief. So, turn away if that bothers you. Yesterday started out with much promise. The weather had warmed, the sun was out, the roads were clear, and I had a list of errands to run. Only one of them involved groceries and none of them involved plumbing supplies. I made my way north to the only town around that has both of the big box hardware stores I frequent along with an office supply store I like. Bought my goods and headed home. The traffic was heavy.
It was like a summer day in July, except this was February and we’d just come out of the deep freeze. For my groceries I stopped at my hometown store. The bread was gone, but I can do without bread. They had veggies and cereal and eggs. I bought a candy bar on impulse. That was probably the first sign I had that my spirit might be flagging. When I got home, I just sat down. Because I was home alone. Sat there for a couple of hours. Watched a sad movie. I think it was seeing all the people and the couples and just life, that said, hey, that’s not you. The commonality of the deep freeze was gone.
To avoid becoming a puddle, I took a walk. Headed down Back Forty Road into the park. As I set out that’s when the tears for the missing wife came. Random tears are an odd thing, and it’s best just to let’em flow. Besides, no one was looking, and I knew the tears wouldn’t last that long. Sure enough, they cleared up as I got to the end of the road. And they were gone by the time I got home. On the way back I stood and watched some deer who stood and watched me. At home, I made dinner, baked cookies, and got ready for bed. Mama cat was waiting. We’re climbing out together.