So, I am staying. And
you have left. Not by choice. As philosophical as I am. As intrigued as I have
been by the unknown. And as much as I’ve
met up with the unknown. There are still no answers as to when? Or what this
is.
I am not disappointed. I know what that is. I’ve been there
before. Am I allowed to ask how long? How long do I feel odd? Well, it is
usually not unusual for me to feel out of place. That’s the story of my life. Not belonging anywhere. Or when I do belong
it’s in some obscure place, most others won’t go. Like a cage, a ring, running
across a dessert in all its hotness of summer. Death is in the air. Yet I witness
only the beauty.
Reluctantly at first you were. Only to end up wanting to run
the ‘show’. I didn’t laugh to anyone but myself... And well, to God too. Keep
in mind He made the giraffe. My bad humor, “Why the long neck?” You put up
with. Yet, my impersonations and made-up
characters, voices and such had you howling in hiccupped laughter at times.
Things we’ve done that defy the odds, I marvel at. Whether it being you running fifty miles at
age fifty in less than half a day, while your single man crew (me), parks and
runs through a wooded area with two children in a baby jogger to hand you a
banana and check up on your condition. Or freaking you out as I ran alone in
the middle of the night mostly within our state. Yet, many times not. “My wife
runs with the saber tooths.” As you once had explained to someone.
Or the red carpeted running loop I made on the 25th
floor of the Huantian Hotel, a five star hotel in Changsha, China. At first you thought it was nuts. Then I said, “It’s designed for you. If they
won’t let women on the treadmill upstairs in the gym. Well, then I guess they won’t allow a man who
is a feminist either… Plus the baby can see you run by our room. Right? And
there’s no traffic. You don’t have to stow your hotel key, neither carry your
passport.” You then asked, “Can you tell me what you’ve measured for an eight
mile run?” Yes indeed, you did enjoy my invented and calculated ‘Red-Carpet Run’.
Other times, people queried of apparent dangers you allowed
your wife to dance with. Knowing all along she knew what she was doing. As you
told another ‘petrified for me’ parent. “She’s already met the big bad wolf.”
Then the times you’d yell in the middle of a couple of multi-day
runs, that I’d organized for charity. “She’s come back from the dead!” I would
not disappoint you and die. I’d wake up after a five or ten minute nap on the
floor of a vehicle, requesting black coffee and “Please stand me up. I’ll be
great.” Yes, the bell did not toll for thee.
As in any long-lived relationship, I just know we pissed each
other off. However, there was no firing squad. No dashing it all to
pieces. We’d witnessed others doing so.
But we were the ‘Try Hards’. As our oldest perhaps knowing such would exclaim
that.
We always scared each other.
Mine started with, “What if…?” And yours’ was “I’m taking the motorcycle
out. I got to get some riding in today. Okay?”
You knew the answer always was “Yes”.
Even the day I knew something tragic was about to happen to you. That weird
feeling of absolute horror, sometimes called intuition. You saw me in action
with that. And you’d ask, “How did you know that?” I’d shrug, and perhaps say
something like, “I felt it. It was in the air.”
My perception of life has always been an altercation with
disassociation. I am indeed intense. You queried after I came home with blood
all over my face and running jacket, more than once. Your awe of “Oh myyyyy…Jody…
Hospital…?” And my response, “I’ll
bandage me. (a beat) Hey. The kids are covered today. I got in ten miles. I got
dinner in downstairs fridge. I have class at seven thirty and then to go to
work… I’m good.” I can still see those jaw drops of yours.
And the times you never realized what fight training truly consisted
of. Yet, you pushed me into it. By the
way, I knew you were afraid to tell others that was the truth. Yes, your wife. Me, did not ask to become a
fighter or a grappler. But you begged me to go dive into a new sport at quite the
late stage of age forty-six. I knew you had no clue what it entailed. Finally,
after months of your begging, I acquiesced.
What you didn’t totally grasp... Was that you helped bring
out my basement of who I have always been. I knew it all along. Which truly
left for some major entertainment of hilarious moments. Like the times when my
nose was broken. The kids figured it out, knowing you hadn’t. You just wondered,
‘How did my wife get two black-eyes?’ Watching your fascial expressions was loads
of fun for me. Our daughters would giggle, realizing you had no clue. And when you finally caught on, you so wanted
to do a public parody. My question, before going to shop with you… “Make-up? Or
you want to pretend we are an angry couple?”
Your response, “It’ll be fun. I love you. Let’s go.”
Some of these shenanigans opened up the debate of, “Pain isn’t
pain. Physical pain is not that physical.”
You almost fell off the computer chair with that remark of mine. I
added, “I will prove it to you. Greg the PT want’s me to write a medical paper
on my forgoing anesthesia for surgeries.” You shook your head. Yes, you the man
with a degree, not just in Botany, Teaching/Math, Master’s in Critical Thinking…
But as I was reminded much by you, also having a degree in psychology. As you
had once remarked, “That’s why I married you.” Implying, that I was your
life-long project. That may have been one of your excuses for marrying me.
Little did you know this street-smart shiksa, was taking you and the
rest of the world around with her for some kind of a ride.
To sum up this interlude of query. I do not know if I will
be here for another ten years, twenty years, or an additional thirty-six years
representing our marriage. Currently, I’m forging ahead on the dreams for our
children’s futures that we would have shared together. I live each second
pretty much in the moment. Even though, thoughts of diversions lie in the
future. I’m still whispering, “What if…?” As I run, wash the dishes, look out
the window in between writing, training, research, and meetings. Once in a
while I pause, dissecting this interlude.---Jody-Lynn Reicher
Very well done
ReplyDeleteThank You. 😊😇
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