I could learn to hate midnight. At midnight the pill that brought blessed unconsciousness some hours ago is history and there isn’t a back up (as in what do I do now that I am back up?) plan.
The television is full of war news and pervert news and unexploded ordinance in East County neighborhoods. Oh, and now they are talking about how little we know about our retirement plans. It isn’t polite to preach to people who cannot talk back to them.
The 401K is now a 101B. I have no clue what I need to do to survive the economic disaster. I do know who to ask for help. It is just one more of the things I cannot change–particularly at midnight.
It’s a smokescreen. I could give a rat’s left testicle what the stock market is or is not doing with my money today. I can’t spend it today anyway. I cannot retire for at least 7 more years and I may be working until much beyond that.
All the plans have changed. I won’t be retiring at 63. We will not both receive the social security stipend we earned together. Thank you Uncle Sam. If I work until I am 67 I will be able to collect a promised sustenance based on Lane’s earning history. He earned more that I for longer.
I get angry in the middle of the night with people who are just doing their jobs. The laws that rule their actions do not consider that terminal means dead soon. It isn’t the people who are without heart. The law is without heart, courage, and brain–and it is absolute. I know how close I am to becoming a statistic–at least I am afraid I know.
Midnight used to be my favorite time of day. The quiet warmth of a comfy bed; strong arms to hold me; kisses in the night; the warmth of his body to curl around all made night time a blessing and a refuge.
It isn’t midnight I hate even now. It’s death and loneliness and the newness of it all. I don’t ask why. There is no answer that will suffice.
I think a glass of water may help. Perhaps a half hour listening to the guided meditation that shows me truths I only half believe will call back sleep.
I miss the growly voice of months before–the one that called out “Babe, are you okay?” to my midnight wanderings. No, right now I am not okay, my love. I miss you and I love you and I am glad that you are not hanging in the limbo you were in. I only wish that the kind and gentle finish to your life would be as kind and gentle to the continuation of mine. Somhow it’s harder at midnight.
