At the school meeting, in the conference room, I begin to drift. In and out of the things being said, I cling to my duties as a modern dad with one hand/ squeezing/ trying to hold tight to the odd comfort that is supposed to come with being involved. But my other hand is grasping in space, feeling around for other things. I brush up against them too. I feel the side of my fingers graze along Arle’s ribs in the dark bedroom. I feel the side of my arm hit a door on my way into Goodwill. In my mind, I am on the battlefield traipsing through my dead ancestor’s footsteps. And then I’m heading into town for tacos and some quesadillas.
And the whole time people are talking to people, saying all kinds of things I’m not even hearing. I wonder to myself why I can’t seem to focus.
I’ve always been this way. I don’t regret it either. I can’t really fake being someone I’m not. I love the kids, I am here for the long haul/ however long I’ve got left, but I’ve only got so much attention in me. I daydream when I’m supposed to be listening. There are entire conversations I have been half of that never even happened as far as I’m concerned, not because I wasn’t listening but more because I was listening to a voice in my head instead of the ones coming out of the mouth of the person I’m supposed to be clocking.
I chew on a toothpick instead of smoking a cigarette. I chew it so hard that if I was smoking right now all of these people would be breathing it in/ some choking/ some wishing they could smell it all the time. The toothpick manages to calm my nerves and center me when I am riding the last of the morning coffee down into the valley of another weary afternoon. Come 2, the whole day turns. My eyes grow heavy and I want to pull over into the supermarket parking lot and just lay down under some trapped tree and rest. I never do, obviously. I have too many responsibilities. Too many meetings I’m due at. All these things to fill up my days in the name of love and money and expectations.
It’s almost as if I’m here but I’m not here. It’s like: I see what you’re all doing, but I can’t seem to do it too. I’m not better than you/ I’m just different. And I’m growing increasingly impatient with the way things are.
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