Citizen of That Other Place

Everyone...holds dual citizenship 

in the kingdom of the well and 

the kingdom of the sick.  

Although we all prefer only 

to use the good passport, sooner or later,

each of us is obliged, at least for a spell,

to identify ourselves 

as citizens of that other place. 

-- Susan Sontag

It has been humbling to suddenly find myself rife with all manner of health issues and confined -- perhaps a strong word, but that is how I feel -- to a hospital for weeks and weeks.

An unexpected abdominal pain begat a series of tests that uncovered quite a list of issues.  I've likened it to taking your car for an oil change and being told you need to replace the driveshaft and get a new transmission.

But, there is a silver lining around my cloud:  some things were inadvertent discoveries (rather than issues sussed out because they caused trouble), which makes for a better prognosis.

The greatest emotional toll so far has been my inability to join my family on our scheduled New York City trip to move our daughter to college.  We had a lot of fun planned.  Though, I think we front-loaded the itinerary, because we knew it would all conclude with a moment wherein we had to wish our daughter well, tell her we love her, then turn and walk away to head back to Texas -- leaving her in the The City That Never Sleeps, knowing that we, too, might have trouble sleeping.

During my hospitalization (i.e., confinement), my family and I have had unprecedented support from friends and relatives.  The blessings of their presence and care have been almost overwhelming.  I realize how wonderfully privileged we are to be surrounded by such abiding love and sustaining grace.

August & Everything After

August comes in like a lion, like no August before.

In July, during the high holy heat days of summer, an epiphany explained the odd fermata of the recent months -- the long, lingering wait.  I've spent most of this summer in a sort of slumped expectancy, knowing that August would bring that fateful trip in which my daughter moves across the country to begin college (and also, in essence, her adult life).

I'm simultaneously excited for her and forlorn that she'll live hundreds of miles away.  I've the complex intertwining of happiness for her big step and sadness that it means, on some level, she's moved on from being my little girl and progressed into being her own woman.

I've been dreading being apart from her.

I know this is the order of things. I know it is an inevitable moment and an occasion for all the appropriately positive emotions surrounding exciting beginnings.  But, when something begins, it usually signals that something else has ended.