Sitting in bed thinking about what it was like at Kathy's to smell breakfast
cooking before I got up—the luxury of someone else doing something
warm and delicious while I lay in, snug and still. I never thought
that there would ever come a place when I would yearn for
that—someone to take care of me in that distant intimacy. Now, if
it comes ever again, it will undoubtedly be in some nursing home
where I’ll have to share a room with another old lady, undoubtedly
someone who snores and farts like an old dog. I like this better, I
think.
Today is full of have-tos: cats, breakfast for Dave, Knute, and
Bryan (my fault—it’s the only thing I know how to do and Bryan
asked for biscuits and gravy), Dave to PT, some kind of supper. As
easy as these are, I am not mustering any want-tos.
Instead, these days are perfect—sunny and 70’s. I want to be in
this day. Maybe I’ll pick some of the easy blackcaps and make
something sweet with them.
Trying to reach for something I want to, not what I have to, and
can’t quite get my hand around it. But then, Dave must be sick,
Bryan must be alone, Jean must drive to see us, Audrey must wake up
without John again. The musts form life, I guess. The wants are only
frosting. They’ll make me sick if I have too much.
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