![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
SilverLinden of Leave
Sep. 15th, 2021 09:13 pmI had an appointment to meet a friend for lunch. Well, a friend of sorts--a friend who started off as my therapist! To wit, the notorious Madame. I had a bad feeling about this. For some reason, I was almost sure something would go wrong. And yet, I did not text her to check on the plans. I said to myself that she is not only a grownup, she is considerably older than me and does not need to be checked up on. Me trying not to be a control freak to my former therapist and all . . . . So, I arrived at the restaurant, parked where I used to park in the long-ago times when I was last there, and immediately started obsessing that the rules might have changed and my car would get towed. I was the first and only customer in the restaurant for a time. I realized that lately, when I try to go out and do things, I've been having mini panic attacks. I wanted to order some coffee or something, but everything on the menu made my stomach hurt to think about. I've apparently crossed the COVID event horizon and no longer feel any hope that I'll get out. Anyway, just as I was thinking I'd better call herself, she called me--from the bookstore. Oops. Fortunately, her memory started to return as she was driving over, and she recalled that I was correct in thinking we'd agreed to meet at the restaurant. By the time she arrived, I had my coffee and had recovered from the panic.
I enjoyed chatting with Madame, but I fear for her. Her recent medical problems have taken a toll, I think. She is very frail. She doesn't eat much. She forgets where she put her cane, and I watch her inching across the street and just hope she doesn't fall down. At one point, she said something that made me want to utter a long, mournful howl of dismay. But I restrained myself. Within, she is tough as all get out and may yet stage a comeback. I realize that we're all dying, just at different rates of speed, but still I do wish I had more friends who were moving toward death very, very slowly and were still full of bounce.
I got home in time to edit another chapter and sit in the back yard with the Sparrowhawk for a cup of tea. It was a lovely day. The hummingbird came back and visited us, and checked out the sunflower. Next year I'll try to plant more things to tempt the hummingbirds and butterflies. While the Sparrowhawk was at the gym, I went for a walk near sunset, and saw a big hawk on an old tree branch, with the waxing moon over his shoulder.
I enjoyed chatting with Madame, but I fear for her. Her recent medical problems have taken a toll, I think. She is very frail. She doesn't eat much. She forgets where she put her cane, and I watch her inching across the street and just hope she doesn't fall down. At one point, she said something that made me want to utter a long, mournful howl of dismay. But I restrained myself. Within, she is tough as all get out and may yet stage a comeback. I realize that we're all dying, just at different rates of speed, but still I do wish I had more friends who were moving toward death very, very slowly and were still full of bounce.
I got home in time to edit another chapter and sit in the back yard with the Sparrowhawk for a cup of tea. It was a lovely day. The hummingbird came back and visited us, and checked out the sunflower. Next year I'll try to plant more things to tempt the hummingbirds and butterflies. While the Sparrowhawk was at the gym, I went for a walk near sunset, and saw a big hawk on an old tree branch, with the waxing moon over his shoulder.
