“It’s almost gone.”
When it comes to calendars, October is the mean girl who
stole my boyfriend. Yes, there’s that.
But it’s always been a challenging month … a collision of professional and
personal mayhem that stretches me beyond the limits of my patience and my
well-honed ability to take on far more than what is reasonable and healthy.
This one has been no exception. But there is one tiny little
difference. I find myself far less content to shoulder the load without complaint.
I wish I could lay claim to some simple solution, to be able
to point to one little corner of my world that is the culprit. But it’s not
that simple. From sun up to sun down, I referee, validate and make my world hum
along its busy course.
“So is October.”
I’m making hard choices that will be harder before they get
better. I’m carving out tiny little slices of time for me, little by little
edging to a more equitable balance that is healthy and rewarding and deserved.
I’m pushing to have my needs, my wants, my preferences recognized and
considered and I’m holding myself back from my innate desire to smooth the
bumps in everyone’s road. And I’m poring over calendars to escape the world for
a moment or two.
All while watching the spot on the window.
When I first saw it, I couldn’t help but laugh and consider
the irony. With no window ledge above or below and panes flat to the side of
the building three stories up, I came back from a 7-day road trip to discover
that something I imagine has roots in the Jurassic age managed to leave its
mark, dripping in a foot-long-and-several-inches-wide mass of nasty, chunky white
and black.
With each day and each rainstorm it has faded and all that’s
left now are traces, a faint silhouette.
Just like October.
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