Father

 I didn't meet my father until I was eleven or twelve. After that I called him every Faher's day. One year I called him, and the number had been disconnected. I called my aunt and got his new number. He wasn't trying to hide from me he just forgot to let me know. 

I have a lot of those kind of stories, which is odd considering how little time I sent with him. 

Once we were having dinner in a club and he asked me to dance. I was so uncomfortable. I hadn't done that much dancing, and I hadn't been that physically close to him. Ever. 

I learned a lot about him from my stepsister. I know I was better off not being around him. 

And sometimes, a commercial in which a father is loving to a child sets me off. 

I know some great fathers. Watching them with their children has been healing for me. And I hope they have a great Father's Day. 

Nine Years In

 Nine years ago. I walked into the nest for the first time. 

When you're a kid they tell you time will go by faster as you age, and you shrug. Honestly. These nine years feel like nine hundred and also feel like a blink. 

My feelings about the nest haven't changed much from year to year. I love it. I appreciate it. I still spend time just looking around and feeling those things. 

I think by many American standards it's small. Most of the people who live in the other condos have them for vacation homes. For me, it's perfect. I might occasionally wish for a tiny bit more room but not often. I'd be lost in anything bigger. 

 I mentioned the other day that the shelves in the library are almost full. After I move things around there will be space. It's a very cozy room. The mommy had a fake fireplace that lives here now. It's one of those things that I would not have purchased but I do love. 

I've lived a somewhat peripatetic life. The habit to look for another place is strong. But I'm not unhappy in the nest. 

Oregon is a beautiful state. I love having four seasons. I love looking out my window and watching the colors change. But I don't love it here. I feel lonely and not quite at home. 

But. In the nest I am home. I am surrounded by things from my childhood and from my friends over the years. I am surrounded by books. What more could I want? 

Seasonal

 Today it took me three trips to the kitchen to remember a cookie. You would think the motivation for a cookie would be a focusing kind of thing. 

But. 

No. 

Trader Joe's thinks chocolate cake is seasonal. At least the ones in Portland do. I do not understand that.

Seasonal is a word that gets tossed around a lot. I was told lamb ragu was seasonal because it had been abruptly taken off a menu. It was just before Easter. Lots of people eat lamb on Easter. I guess it was the pasta. 

Sometimes I hate it here. 

 

Sigh

 I just went to get a glass of water. Came back with the glass. No water. 

Sigh.

This brain fog is no fun. 

Is it the depression? ADHD? Dementia? A generalized lack of focus. 

Sigh. 

It's hard to accept how little have to say. I'm just drifting. 

I am watching a fair amount of the hearing. That is distracting. I'm selective about the analysis I listen to because so much of it is repetitive and hyperbolic. But the hearing was riveting.  I was surprised but it was. 

I'm reading a good book. When I can concentrate. 

Sigh.