Thursday, November 17, 2005
Winter BeginsWinter came suddenly yesterday and today it is 20 degrees or so,
perhaps a little warmer in the sun. There are even a few snow flakes on
the ground, nestled between gathers of curled-up, fallen leaves. The
lake is the blue of lapis lazuli and the sky, the sky! Today it is
clear and shining bright from that white winter sun. 3:21:26 PM | I've spent the day reading and working on a few things and answering emails. Because of that little essay several friends who I hadn't heard from in a while wrote me. One wrote to apologize, fearing that she had said "at least he's not in Iraq" to me last fall, more evidence that I didn't write the essay quite the way I intended. How terrible that she would feel bad! I assure all of you, the half dozen who read this thing, that while I have heard this countless times this year I have never been insulted by it, but rather affirmed by the sentiment that Afghanistan really is our forgotten war. After all, I was relieved that he was going to Afghanistan when he was first called up. I had no idea it was so dangerous either. I fear that sometimes I'm being misinterpreted and that makes me worry. I write to figure myself out, following the Socrates idea that "an unexamined life is not worth living." Even when something distresses me, I don't write about it to punish someone but rather to analyze my own reaction and my own thoughts on it all, and sometimes simply to discuss the larger issues my reaction and thoughts are related to (like how Afghanistan is our forgotten war). This was certainly the case when I wrote about "that question." Yes, I'd have rather not been asked it at all. But the sad truth is that I reacted to it strongly because I'm on an emotional teeter-totter since S left. It was my strong reaction that interested me most. Why had it thrown me off? What was most distressing about it, and what does that say about this unnatural separation we're going through? In theory at least this examination will make the next question easier to deal with because I've already looked inside a bit to see what sort of fall-leaf clutter I could clear away. Unfortunately S is out in the bush (well, the mountains) and so he doesn't know the essay aired. I doubt he will for a week or two either because during our brief conversation on Saturday he said he'd be out of touch for at least a week and probably longer. His new base is seven kilometers from the Pakistan border, nestled in the mountains that dominate there. It's odd not getting to share this news with him. He was the first person I wanted to tell and yet he will be the last person I'll be able to. I've sent him a dozen emails about it, though I know he can't access them and therefore can't read them. It's part of the deal, I know, but it's still odd. I feel exhausted. The last few days have been busy. Just a couple of hours after I recorded the essay, I met with the JOT writing group at a library branch in Uptown while the wind blew the remaining leaves off the trees and scattered lake effect snow across the north side. We talked about constructive criticism and how to be respectful of each other because it's so damned hard to write. Then we looked at poems and an essay and talked about how to make them better. Afterwards I drove home, my car shifted this way and that by the wind. I cooked a simple omelette and some sauteed squash, onion, and tomato, and watched a completely silly movie, Batman Begins, and thought about what a crazy, wonderful day I'd had on our first day of winter. Then I nestled myself in our too-big-for-one-person bed and thought about S and how he left in winter and now here it is winter again. How I miss him. 
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Last update: 12/1/05; 10:35:04 PM .
