2005-07-01 - 12:16 p.m.

The last couple days have been a little better for me. I should say, actually, a lot better. Yesterday we went to the gym down in town and got memberships. That little step towards getting back to living makes me feel much better. There is something now in place. A destination for my day. A part of my so desired routine that can be slotted in now. I can put my shoes on now and walk to the gym. There is a certain clarity in my mind now, a knowledge that these are necessary steps, this faltering, stumbling language stuff, learning a word a day sort of thing until one day I can understand an entire sentence. It was like when we first moved here and coming upon our village from the main road all you would see was a bunch of white houses with various palm tree tops. For a couple weeks every time we approached I would scramble my eyes to try to pick out our house…and each time I looked I understood a little more, no, that first grouping of houses that I at first thought was the group where our house stood was actually on the other side of the village. Eventually, it all became clear and now when we approach our village I immediately see our house. It is like that with the language too. The first weeks it all sounded like one garbled, slurred word to me. Over the course of these weeks I can now discern the breaks between words, they are becoming clear to me. I may not understand them but now I can discern them. One day I will instantly be able to understand them, they will have become familiar in my mind, just as the location of our house, the scheme of the village has now become completely clear.

Today I had an adventure. I had to take Eric to the airport. I hate airports and I get extremely flustered when trying to maneuver through them, especially airports that I don’t know. Flustered is okay when you have some sort of idea where you are going. It was always okay with me if I got flustered at Detroit Metro, even if I ended up on the wrong road, because Michigan is totally familiar to me. I could end up anywhere in Michigan and find my way home probably without a map. But if I took the wrong road here…that would be disastrous because I hardly know the names or directions of even three towns. But I did it. I got on the right road and I had a totally faultless trip all the way back here….until I missed the exit for Sant Pere. And I ended up going towards a different town, one that I kind of know, and I was thinking it was okay because eventually, if I didn’t leave the vicinity, I would find a spot from which I could get back home. And I did. I found a road that Eric and I had taken last week and I got back to Sant Pere and then some asshole was riding my ass (as is the custom here) and I got flustered even though I have repeatedly told myself to ignore the tailgating habit, and I missed the road I was supposed to turn on and I ended up going through Sant Pere. Through tiny, busy, winding streets that are two way streets but only have enough room for one car to pass. I had no idea how to get out but I just kept my eye on the direction I needed to be in and I ended up, somehow, getting back to the road I needed to be on. And then I just continued on instead of going home, I went to the beach for a walk. And that was nice.

I realize that morning is where I fit in the best. I am not a morning person per se…I like to sleep and could and would sleep all day if it didn’t make me feel so guilty. But morning is my absolute favorite time of the day. The people walking the boardwalk this morning were there for a purpose. Our strides were brisk, but we were not in a hurry. The people walking the boardwalk this morning were not going anywhere, they were not fitting something in. It was the morning walk. I had the feeling that all of us walking that boardwalk this morning understood the meaning of a walk. We were not strolling to pass time, we were walking forward to clear our minds, prepare for a day, start the day off in the right way. We had peaceful looks on our face, that quiet look of morning. It’s not the tired look of noon or the vivid gaze of night. Morning is the time to wash away the night and the previous day. It’s a clean slate. There was a much different feel to the beach in morning. Parents quietly leading their children into the sand…an older woman with a gray streak in her black hair riding a bike with a big basket full of vegetables and bread…dignified older men wearing headphones and whistling softly…athletes of a different sort than the evening athletes running down the boardwalk, somehow their footsteps sounding less harsh than the runners at night…it was all extremely peaceful and clean feeling. Men in cars passing by looked at me, but they did not catcall or whistle as they are like to do at night. Morning is not a time for hitting on people. I like the morning.

And now it is noon and I have a three days and two nights ahead of me where I will be alone. I have this urge to turn off all the clocks and live completely within my own world. I want to not think about what I should be doing, only about what I want to do. But somehow, turning clocks off takes a lot of courage. Why is that?


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