Superhero Seeks Nemesis

Hello 3.5 dedicated readers! (I'm giving partial credit to the undoubtedly at least one "skimmer" out there.)

As superheroes (superheros? why must English be so nuanced?!) rarely have leisure time to read, it takes me FOREVER to finish a book. Speed reading might be my super power of choice if I could still soak in every word and absorb every feeling from the pages. But I digress.

Tonight I finished reading Enslaved by Ducks by Bob Tarte. An enjoyable light read which was sometimes funny, sometimes touching but did drag on a bit. Still, it got me through some stressful and challenging weeks by taking my mind off things, and for that, I am very grateful.

The book is non-fiction, and the author describes in great detail the daily undertakings that he and his wife endure in the pursuits of pet ownership of the many parrots, parakeets, ducks, geese, turkeys, rabbits, cats, and other critters. As the book's title suggests, it is not always clear who owns who (or whom? Man, English!).

And so it is with superheroes.

Life as a single thirty-something year old homeowner also comes with its inevitable burdens. I constantly find myself battling dust, gravity, shoes that refuse to stay in the closet, clutter that comes out of nowhere seemingly of its own accord against my guard. Belly dance instructors who poo-poo something as minor as scoliosis and multiple back surgeries as the possible reasons why my body simply won't cooperate with their commands. Dating websites who demand "Open This Now! It's a match!" only to show me the profile of a member who I already clicked "No" on and theoretically according to their same site took "out of the game." Moments of self-doubt when I wonder what I'm doing with my "career" and where I see myself in a year... five years... ten years.

Yet, every day, I rise. I get ready. I face the day. Lunch gets made. Bills get paid. Floors (eventually) get swept. Is this real life? It sounds much more dire than it is perhaps. I'm happy. I'm healthy. I'm making a (hopefully positive) difference in my community. But the dust bunnies and gentle pull of gravity will not be slowed. They are stealthy, patient enemies - ever advancing. Who has time for ducks??

A Jerry Sized Hole

Sometimes even superheroes get the blues. It's a beautiful yet lonely night as fluffy white snow falls mid-March and settles effortlessly along the tops of branches. Yet my heart aches for a different vision. A sight of turtles sunning themselves just as unassumingly on logs along the banks of a small man-made lake in Apex, North Carolina.

There, my dear friend Jerry and I built our friendship, and there we both got our stride back. I am so sad tonight, and my heart so heavy remembering it's been a year since he's been gone... and that I wasn't there to say goodbye with the bagpipes. I can still hear him talk and laugh. He still sometimes whispers to me in my dreams, but there are no words for the longing to take one more walk with him. To count turtles. To have him tell me about life from further down the road.

At 40 years my senior, he was always a bit ahead of me. Even when we were recovery buddies from our respective ailments. Although, I would like to believe, we were always very close in our maturity... which is to say always around 17. It worked for us. Generations apart, we had a common language. It's not something I could easily explain, although a few special people in our lives speak the same one. It knows no age. And in losing Jerry, I have come to hope it knows no bounds.

I speak to him in my heart and know he's close. It's just like him to throw a snowstorm at us when it should be spring by now. Perhaps he doesn't want us counting turtles without him... and he knows we don't want that either.

There are people throughout our lives in difficult times who offer to help. And there are those who show up. Jerry and Toby brought me into their lives and their family when I was adrift in the world, and for that, they are forever in my heart.