When Leo died, I squelched the practice of second-guessing. There was no line of reasoning that could give solace, other than simply accepting the fact that he had died after a series of events in which each person acted with their best intent, the wealth of their knowledge, and every fiber of hope in their being to save his life. Really, accepting his death and embracing the belief that the doctors, nurses, and technicians worked with valiant effort to save his life is the only way for me to move forward. I even extend that line of thinking to Leo and to myself. The two days that preceded his death still sore spots that I don’t explore very often. They hurt too much.
I don’t know. Maybe it is the time of the year, the season or month. Maybe I’m out of sorts, aching for a long day spent soaking in the sunshine or longing for the comfort of people that I miss. I’m second-guessing myself.
Not about those days before Leo died. I just don’t go there.
Not about my person. If I went ‘there,’ he’d go with me and drag me back.
I am second-guessing my decision to stay put for another year. Wishing that I'd taken a professional risk and put myself out there. I recognize that the time isn't right because, when I am being honest, I know that I’ve found this place in my life where I have someone to goof around with, live close enough to great restaurants, the mountains, lakes, and concert venues, and appreciate the ratio of free time to work time. I’ve moved to a new place with better lighting and a neighbor that I like. I can walk to almost all of the places that I could want to go. My taxes are done and I don’t owe any money and even though it puts a pig-pen puff of dust off when I get in, my jeep makes me happy. My daughter has found a groove of independence and my man-child drank his first beer (that I officially know of) sitting across from me in a bar. I just miss spending my days where ideas are explored, where the challenging conversations that rage are easy, and everyone has a say in decisions that are made. I kind of miss feeling useful.
Despite being settled. I am restless and I don’t quite know what to do about it. So I’m going to go for a long walk and be dragged behind the donkey-beast who eats my canned goods and sleeps on the couch when I’m not home. I’ll also quit my bitching because, well, someone’s gotta buck up, go to work in the morning to earn the paycheck that keeps the beast housed and fed. Heck. It’s April, there's still time to update the resume and the sun’s gotta shine sooner or later… right?
