Thursday, October 27, 2005

Where my Jungians at?

I had a dream last night that my husband and I robbed a bank. Twice. It was his idea, and apparently the scheme was foolproof. So foolproof that we accomplished it twice. At the same bank. I love my husband. He's really smart. CAN I CALL IT A NA-NA? Yesterday was big. In the morning, I had another followup appointment with my ladydoctor, who pronounced that everything looks peachy. You know that makes a girl feel proud when someone says her (per husband's request, I am not going to call it a hoo-ha) "looks great, REALLY GREAT - the best I've seen it." He also said that, even with all the reconstruction, it's obviously "functional." Flatterer. Now you're just trying to make me blush. After my appointment, I picked up Buttercup and raced to my mother's house so I could meet the charity truck and make another donation. Just so that you can understand what it has meant to clear my mother's house, let me explain to you the layers of archaeology that I had to accomplish. First, I removed at least 10 bags of trash per room - and these were big, black lawn bags of trash. I had to have thrown out somewhere in the neighborhood of 100-150 bags of trash. And that was just the OBVIOUS trash. The trash that could be ascertiained without any effort. Then I had to sort through every purse Mom had owned since she was 25 - all of them still full of stuff. And no, I couldn't just toss them, because among the gas receipts and napkins and disintegrated latex nurse gloves, I would find things like her baptismal certificate, a wedding ring, an original photo of my grandmother as a child. And I've just discovered that I can't even go further in describing the work, because even putting it in writing is too grueling. I also am struggling against the feeling that my brother could have done more. Or, indeed, anything. I need to let go of that, because it will only get in the way. I just wish I hadn't been the one who had to look at EVERY piece of paper in the house. I wish that, when I watched the man close the truck door on the living room sofas that had been in our house since I was five, I wish I hadn't been alone watching it go.

1 Comments:

Anonymous peripateticpolarbear said...

i wish you weren't alone for that either.

6:05 PM  

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