Monday, May 10, 2010

The offer

I always say that getting up just a little bit earlier than the usual, I mean making myself get up, I always say that completely destroys me. But then it’s totally different when it happens, like today I only needed to get up to 1 pm, just an hour early, but of course that meant I was thinking about it all night, woke up at 11:30 am and couldn’t fall back asleep and I know that doesn’t sound so awful, until. Until. Until it is. So awful. I mean I’m rushing to the bathroom to shit, over and over, and then I can’t digest anything. At the train station with my mother I start feeling nauseous, like I’m going to vomit right there, back to the bathroom, back to the waiting area, back to the bathroom, I’m not sure I can get on this train. I mean I am going to get on this train, if I don’t get too nauseous, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea, and my mother says are you sure you don’t want to stay longer? I do, I mean I don’t, I mean I wish I could take a later train on a different day, but it would just be the same thing, or maybe not the same thing but something like it: I’m already here.

And then I remember I have TUMS in my bag, maybe TUMS will help, and actually they do, I don’t feel nauseous anymore, just sad and exhausted and overwhelmed but maybe now I can eat more, and my mother says I’ve really enjoyed this trip, every minute of it, and I appreciated last night’s conversation – it’s not an end, just a beginning, we’ll have more conversations. And then she says: if you need me to go to Chicago, I’ll go to Chicago, I can meet you there, and strangely that sounds comforting, not the idea but the offer.

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