A calm day

 

Nov. 27, 1980

 

Happy Thanksgiving!

The pumpkin from Halloween is still on the doorstep of my cold water flat here in Passaic. The city is quiet for a change, and cold, and vividly bright in the noontime sun.

Mother called and cried, making me feel guilty over the loneliness she felt at my choosing not to go south to see her.

I should go; I feel appropriately guilty.

But I feel helpless and confused, filled with mixed emotions and undecided as what it the right thing to do.

The morning has brought me hope, a gift, a new job and security (at least until Christmas); although I’m a bit upset about the gap in my mouth where my tooth once was, and the still-in-process work ongoing on the other side.

My dentist laughed and called me a phantom as he shot me full of Novocain.

It’s not bad; I’ll survive.

So I called my mother back and told her I would come after all, though regretted that, too, resenting the idea that I could not spend the day alone with my girlfriend.

I guess I’ll just have to split my time between the two, although the drive south to Toms River and back will wear on me, and my questionably sturdy car.

Merlyn, my hamster, complains, or possibly he simply chatters when he eat, having his feast early, while I have to wait for mine.

We both have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

I have much and demand more, something I should not do.

My girlfriend feels the worst of this, and last night we had a pretty frank talk that I’m still stunned about. She thinks I’m too competitive – with her, and I am. She’s brilliant and I need to feel like I am, too, when I’m not.

We’re both trying to find importance in a world where neither of us has any status yet – she because she is just starting out, me, because I’ve wasted ten years or more wandering in the world following a trail of breadcrumbs that led nowhere.
I want to make a dent in her life, at a time when I see us drifting off, and each time I try to hold onto her, it causes pain – for both of us.

I guess I should be grateful that I’ve had her in my life at all, and I love her, and I should accept that and open my eyes to the fact that she loves me, too.

The drifting is natural, and I get the feeling inevitable.

I glance over to where she is sleeping; she does not stir.

It was a long night last night, and perhaps today will be a good day, a peaceful day. How long this will last, I don’t know. But it is here and it is real, and I hope that you will remember this, my future self. I hope you will know that at least for one day all was calm.