Something Just Like This

I take a deep breath in and exhale to the count of eight. The forces of the Universe wash over me and I find myself pulled in infinite directions at once. Before panic sets in, I immediately center myself and take another deep breath, holding it and mentally repeating my goal for this meditation session in as few words as possible. This world needs more love, more kindness, more compassion. From everyone. I feel the energy around my heart open up and I relax into it. I breathe through the waves and use my chest to push them out to the earth that needs such healing and positive energy now more than ever. 

The pirates of the multiverse start to voice their objections, and I find myself beginning to split. I have to quiet them lest they negate the love with their hate, but it is a constant battle. I hush them, and take a sip of water, my meditation broken but not without, I believe, some benefit to the metaverse.

A few hours later, the chime of the door opening dings and I say “hey dere” and hear the familiar “hey dere” back. He greets Leia, our calico who waits for him at the top of the stairs when she sees him pull in the driveway. He puts his water bottle on the kitchen table then immediately retreats to the bedroom to change out of his shirt and tie so as not to sully them with the cat hair that is persistent. Ten minutes before he got home, I filled his water glass with ice and fresh water and placed it on his side table next to his recliner. I also took the opportunity to fill his bowl, so he has a freshie to smoke as he unwinds and relaxes from the stresses of his job. 

He sits down next to me and I wait until he is ready to talk before I pause my physics editing to give him my full attention. 

“Three trucks today, and Sam scheduled off so Abby and I had to unload and restock ourselves.” He has taken a part time job as the dairy man at a local specialty market to help pad our savings as we contemplate an interstate move in the near future. It’s hard on his body and it is not without its frustrations, but the hours are good and we are taking full advantage of the employee discount. Until something better comes along, he is making it work. I am deeply appreciative of the extra income, as it makes us that much closer to making our dreams a reality. 

Spotify plays in the background and Coldplay’s “Something Just Like This” takes its turn in the shuffle. 

“I had to return an octopus to the seafood department that somebody dumped in the dairy today. That was a new one.” I love when he tells me what he finds people have ditched. It makes me wonder what sparked the sudden divorce from a great dinner idea to dropping it all by the time they get to the other end of the store. 

After meditating in the morning, my day at home was spent editing physics, engineering, and law. Sometimes I have a tidbit to share that I have picked up from an article, but mostly I just say “work was good. I have to finish up after dinner. What’s for dinner again?” I could’ve looked it up on our menu app before he got home, but he sometimes has lightning strikes of inspiration and will switch things around at the last minute. Tonight we are having honey garlic cod with Parmesan couscous and maple glazed carrots for the side. The last chorus of Coldplay fades and the words repeat in my head, 

Where’d you wanna go?

How much you wanna risk?

I’m not lookin’ for somebody

With some superhuman gifts

Some superhero

Some fairy-tale bliss

Just something I can turn to

Somebody I can kiss

I want something just like this

His immediate presence calms me as he is my touchstone on this earthly plane. At a time when I explore dimensions in my brain through mindful meditation sessions, he reminds me that in this place and time there is only this one dimension that matters. I have a deep abiding love for the man who doesn’t have superhuman gifts, but who helps ground me so that I can explore the possibility of my own. 

He raises himself out of the recliner and goes to the kitchen to start dinner. I hear him hum as the fish sizzles in the iron skillet. A slow smile settles across my lips. Turns out, I want something just like this. 

The Last Lovebug

I take a right on Galbraith Road as the opening notes of Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” play against the faint crackle of static from the Dayton radio station. Still close enough to come in, but far away enough to not be completely clear. Instantly my heart twinges and I can feel the emotions start to bubble up as I remember my mom singing along to Patsy on the way to taking me to school. She loved that song. Still does, I’m quite sure, even though she is 3,000 miles away. I cross Kenwood and slow past the hospital, thinking this is the first of many lasts. I am on my way to pick up Ezra on their last first day of high school, the last of my three kids, the last one to need my driver’s license as their ticket to freedom before they launch on their own. 

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