this morning....

I wake up at 2; it's like waking up at 4. Perhaps my soul hasn't caught up with my body. My body's back on Mercer Island, but part of me remains in Austin or is in transit.

I fall asleep again, at least I think I do. Eventually it is 5, and I feel as though I didn't sleep more. I tossed and turned so frequently.

I had fallen asleep the first time so peacefully. But in the morning anxiety crept back in. Busy mind. Achy heart.

Time passes. My heart opens and closes. My mind fills and empties. Busy. Not busy. Happy. Sad. Calm. Agitated. Present. Past? Present. Future?

I see an open coin purse lying on the floor. It brings me back into the present and reminds me of openness. I smile. I feel calm. I write an email about it and end up getting upset again. setting myself up again.

i send the email. then i wonder. am i really angry at anyone other than myself? yeah, so what! no, why bother?

finally it's 9 a.m. and i can start distracting myself with business calls. and then my dad distracts me and i'm irritated. he's about to leave for work, so i talk to him for a few minutes, but i'm closed off and impatient. i tell him i have to make some calls. and as i walk away, i think, "no i don't. the calls can wait. what if he dies today and i just missed out on spending a few minutes of quality time with him?" but i make my calls anyway, even though he's still sitting by the door, waiting to leave. and then i hear him call out to me, while i'm in the middle of checking messages. i feel irritated and hang up the phone. i go to where he is to say goodbye, but in a cold and hurried way. what's my problem?

i'm pissed off. at who? at what? why?

i make some calls and then i start gathering up my stuff; i'm getting ready to leave, to go to some appointments and then go back to anacortes.

after bringing all my stuff upstairs, i soften. my mom is standing there. i tell her i need a hug. her hug feels distant. i start to cry. but not because of that.

i tell her i'm angry and stressed and sad.

she asks me why.

she asks me who i'm angry at.

i say mostly myself.

anyone else? she asks.

well, i thought so, but then i wondered why. what's the point? what a waste of energy. anger is real; anger is there, but why direct it at anyone else? why direct it at myself? why not just feel it? does it need a target?

she agrees it's a waste of energy. but i know she feels a lot of anger too. but i don't deepen the conversation. instead i walk away, heading down the stairs, saying "i just wish i were blissfully ignorant!" and then i call up from below, "or blissfully enlightened?"

my mom follows me and says, "i know what you need."

"what?"

"the onion."

she thinks reading to me from the onion will make me laugh. i don't think it will.

she says she's going to read me something and it will make me laugh.

I whine, "Noooooo."

she laughs. she thinks i'm saying that i don't want to laugh. but then i explain i don't want her to read. i explain that reading the onion will make her laugh, not me.
"not that i don't want YOU to laugh," i add. and so she reads silently to herself and laughs out loud.

and now here i am, writing this instead of spending time with my mom before i leave. i hear her playing piano. i want to go home. i want to go back to anacortes. i want to go back to austin. i don't want to go anywhere.