xiii
prev.cont.If the only way out is through, then the only way through is one day at a time. Do what’s expected of me until the responsibilities end, do it again tomorrow, and then, someday, it’ll be the weekend. And eventually, it'll all be over.
Today I went to neurology clinic and saw a patient with Alzheimer’s. She didn’t talk much. When she did, she only said "I love you." She didn’t seem to notice how strange that was. Each time she said it, it felt like real love. It was infectious. I wanted to say "I love you too," but that would've been unprofessional.
Maybe I should follow her lead and start saying "I love you" to strangers. Not having Alzheimer’s, I do notice how strange it is, so the most I can do when I feel love for a stranger is to smile.
When I was in church school, the priest told us that we shouldn’t go around saying "I love you" to just anyone. He said that telling someone you love them means you’re willing to throw down your life for that person. I’m sure he was just trying to stop us from having sex with each other, but maybe he really meant it.
Since he said that, I’ve taken love very seriously. It freaks me out sometimes. If I haven’t consciously decided that I love someone, and they tell me they love me, I feel embarrassed and scared for both of us.
The Alzheimer's patient's "I love you"s felt so unconditional, like she really would've thrown down her life for me. She kept saying it, even when I was testing her cranial nerves. She said it with no shame or reservations.
After work, I drove to the lake. There was a "NO SWIMMING" sign. I parked up the hill. An old guy parked next to me and said hello, then walked down to the dock. I followed him down the wooden stairs, preparing to be scolded for not obeying the sign.
When I got to the water, the man was sunning himself on the far end of the beach. I took off my socks and waded into the lake. It was cold. I closed my eyes and let the sun hit me. Then I remembered the sign and sloshed back to the beach. I squatted on the pebbles and looked out at the water. I weighed the pros and cons of going for a proper swim.
"My underwear will get wet, and I forgot to bring a towel. But I did drive all the way out here with the intention of swimming. But the sign. But I’m here."
I took off my shirt and waded further out. I dropped myself into the water until it surrounded me on all sides.
When I came back up for air, I felt the full intensity of the cold for the first time. I sloshed back to the beach, brushing water off my chest and arms. I squatted on the pebbles again, this time facing the sun directly. I looked at my arm and imagined the drops of water evaporating off the little hairs. I used my hands to shield my eyes from the bright spot the sun had cast on the lake. When I looked at my hands, I realized how big my field of vision was, and how much there was to see. I hadn’t noticed that before.
I stood up and walked back up the wooden stairs. As I looked back, I saw the old guy standing in the shallow part of the lake, his arms outstretched like a big bird, facing the sun.
I got in my car and drove around the circumference of the lake, which was bigger than I thought. Music and air blasted in and out of the windows.
When I got home, I felt like everything was fine all of a sudden. Perfectly fine, actually. Good, even. I made myself dinner. I went for a bike ride as the sun was setting. I felt the wind in my hair and on my skin.
exit