Dearest Rachel –
You might think that, after a day as unusual as yesterday (even for a Sunday), I would have so much to tell you about. And yet, I was dismayed to wake up this morning without a thought in my mind as to what to say to you – or really, to say at all.
Maybe it’s just how things are for me, first thing in the morning, these days; I’m no longer in any mood to hit the ground running (assuming I ever was, even back in the days when I was part of the work farce), especially since there’s no pressing external need to. There are no deadline, no responsibilities; why, there isn’t even so much as a requirement that I have to get out of bed, today or any other day. I only have to do what I tell myself I have to do.
That’s the thing, though. This is one of those tasks I tell myself has to get done at this point. And it gets under my skin that I wake up empty-headed, since I like to take care of what I perceive to be ‘my’ tasks so that I can then spend the rest of my time doing whatever it is I really want to do – which, let’s face it, is often just this side of nothing. But I can’t allow myself that indulgence until this (and other tasks, as well) have been crossed off for the day.
Granted, I also hate the fact that writing you sometimes feels more like an obligation than something I actually want to do just for the sake of it (then again, you’ll recall me saying something similar during our last couple of years together whenever you wanted to watch the latest episode of Doctor Who when it would come out – and I was apologetic about that, too, but still let you know how I felt about it. At least you had seen every episode in existence at the time by the time you had to go), but it’s all part of disciplining myself to continue with it. Besides, it’s not as if there weren’t things worth telling you about from yesterday.
Maybe I just need to figure out how to frame it all for you.
***
I did find myself thinking of things in terms of penance during the morning yesterday. After having been to church on Saturday (and telling you about how that went for the most part), I decided to skip out, and let Daniel attend on his own. But between that, and the fact that the morning saw me tipping the scales yet again at the barrier line of 250.0, I felt the need to spend time at the gym while he was out. After burning 700 calories (and two-and-a-half pounds – which was somewhat offset by a bowl of cereal for breakfast), I could at least claim I’d done something with that otherwise idle morning.
I should mention that, for all that I’ve said before about early mornings at the fitness center being nothing like having the place to myself, it’s that much less so on Sunday mornings. Which is odd to me, because I always thought that people treated the day as one to either go to church or sleep in – certainly, the traffic we would deal with when I was working on a given weekend would bear that out. Granted, I wasn’t out until after Daniel had left, so it wasn’t nearly as ridiculously early as all that; maybe to the average exercise aficionado, nine o’clock is sleeping in (particularly compared to the fact that a smattering still happen to be there at five-thirty on a weekday). And I should point out that this is more of an observation rather than a complaint; it wasn’t as if I had to wait to use any of the equipment that was part of my typical routine.
***
The rest of the day was the typical, uneventful Sunday afternoon all three of us used to appreciate even as we rather took it for granted that we would have so many of them going forward together. The boys hung out in the family room, while I kept to myself in the bedroom, watching stuff but otherwise doing little else. It was sort of a means to mark time until the evening…
…when we were to join Ellen at her sister’s new home for what turned out to be a fairly low-key birthday party. Hey, we’re all getting older, honey – we’re not always up to running around in the back yard (expansive as it was; in retrospect, I should have gotten a picture of myself while I was climbing the enormous fallen willow tree at the back edge of their property – or at least, a picture from my own vantage point atop the prone trunk) like a bunch of kids.
I will admit to having enjoyed the bonfire once the sun set; it’s been a surprisingly (or maybe not so much so, given my predilections for staying indoors, and Daniel orders of magnitude more so) long time since breathing in the scent of wood smoke to that extent. On the other hand, the more acrid smell of the several smoke bombs Logan had purchased (originally for the Fourth, but the three of us have had yet to go outside into the back yard to set them off), was somewhat less than appealing. He eventually had to go further back into the yard to set them off, but you would have probably been helping him out no matter where he decided to do so.
In fact, you would have enjoyed the whole affair. It would have certainly made for less awkward introductions, too, as Ellen would introduce the three of us to Jeanette and Ramón’s friends by way of our relation to you, her “best friend since childhood.” No mention was made about the reason for your absence, however, but (to me, at least) that hung in the air for a moment with each introduction until Ramón, in particular, would bustle through the scene, gladhanding with everyone, making sure everyone was comfortable and content, and laying out a spread of food that was a little bit of everything from everyone (even the three of us; I’d brought popcorn from the farmers’ market, Logan had whipped up some more deviled eggs, and even Daniel offered a container of jalapeños he’d inexplicably received with the lunch he’d gotten earlier in the day), to the point where the tables were in danger of sagging.
In keeping with the morning’s activity, I tried to limit my intake (although I will admit that there were plenty of things on offer that were just not to my tastes – literally. I think of myself as having a broad and accepting palate, but some people have an inadvertent talent for making a liar out of me on that score), and that’s about as close as I can come to framing the events of the day. I hope it doesn’t seem too abrupt to stop here, but it’s hard to go into detail about the sights, the sounds and the conversations of the evening from a remove of fourteen hours and a full night’s sleep. Suffice to say that you would have treasured the day, especially the evening (the morning, on the other hand, wouldn’t have gone the way it did, for a variety of reasons).
Anyway, take care of yourself, keep an eye on both Daniel and me, and wish us luck. We’re likely going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 