But I am lost right now.
We went away for an overnight. Unfortunately R has the flu so the time for being away and being together was derailed. He is very sick. He'll be fine.Driving back into town this feeling washed over me like an angry tide. It was a feeling of deep, disbelieving loss. All is lost. The skyline seemed cold and mockingly impersonal, like a horizon of empty buildings, giants too disinterested in me to even blink their window eyes in acknowledgement that I exist.
I am lost. I am lost right now.
One of the gifts of age is the awareness that being lost is rarely ever a permanent condition. I lose myself and then am found. Who knows how long this particular bit of wayward being will last. I know, however, that it will end.
Armed with that knowledge, I am going to allow myself to use whatever bits of comfort or traveler's rest I can muster. And I add to that Dr. B.
When I was thinking of him, I was reminded of a trick of a decade or more ago. I remember a night of snow and grayness and the soul cold. I was lost then, too. Like all random encounters, he was something to fill a void, sate an immediate hunger, dull a throbbing toothache of gloom. Magically, he was young and beautiful and hung and willing. I remember thinking that I couldn't fathom whatever daddy issues or self-loathing or semen dreams had brought him to my hotel room, but I was so, so grateful. And I let his beauty and his body and his willingness just warm me and bring me peace. For some reason, I didn't worry about how I looked or the aggressions of weight and age - I just allowed myself to take from him with gratitude and to love him. It was transcendent.
I think that is where I am now, Dr. B. Like that sweet or indiscriminate boy, you are beautiful and warming and transient. And like then, I am in need of just a respite so that I can gain strength to be on my way. I think of the times and places and people who have been havens for me. They never last for long, they don't have to and probably couldn't even if I wanted them to.
I will need other intervals of sanctuary, ministered by other altruistic Samaritans. I need to allow myself to take what they offer without self-judgement or suspicion, knowing that I will never be a permanent drain on their hospitality but am merely a brief guest.
I am wandering and I am lost. I am lost right now. I hope that I'll like the next clearing, the next founding, but for now I am simply going to take quiescent harbor in my copay.
