All the Air Goes Out

All the Air Goes Out

Well, last night all the air went out of my good intentions, out of my determination not to let them get to me, out of my belief that we will, in the long run prevail in our intentions to build a progressive society. Last night I was tired and jittery over our political situation, over my new job at Cisco that I don’t know how to do, over my fears that this administration will wreck terrible havoc in the name of “faith”. But I was having dinner with a friend, and it was good, and we ran into some people I haven’t seen in a long time, and then we wound up dancing to a great little band in my friend Jimmy’s bar.

And then my wallet went missing. We couldn’t find it anywhere. I’ve been carrying Patrick’s old wallet for most of the last year, and while it’s somewhat sentimental, I like that this small object has a continuing life. Every time I pull my wallet out to pay for something — groceries, or gas for the car, I feel a continuity between his life that has ended, and my life that continues on. And his/my wallet was gone. I was beside myself. I’m not much of a cryer, but I burst into tears right there in the bar, and friend my Jim, who keeps Patrick’s picture in the restaurant he runs with his wife, was very sweet about it and let me just cry and cry … I couldn’t believe it was gone. I couldn’t believe I’d lost even this small token. I was heartsick.

But I dried my tears and came home and pulled out the files in which I keep all my bills and called to cancel my credit cards. And then I went to bed, exhausted and heartsick. I cried on and off all morning, just a wreck — and then decided perhaps I was giving up to easily. So I went back over to Jimmy’s bar, and looked around in the light of day. It had lodged beside one of the poker machines. It was there — everything was in it, which I didn’t really care about. Mostly I was just happy to have it back.

I guess that, just as I wasn’t nearly as okay about this election as I’d tried to be, or had hoped to be, I’m also, occasionally, still not as okay with having lost Patrick as I’d like to be. So, along with writing letters and urging our elected officials to keep up the fight, it’s probably important that we all remember to be kind to one another in these difficult times.

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