Thursday, March 31, 2011

331. WAIT UNTIL THE LIGHT OF DAY


Blink. Blink. My contacts have fused to my pupils. My eyes hurt. Wait, maybe it’s my head that hurts. A flatness has moved in behind my eyes much like an unwanted houseguest. I hear noise. I roll my neck to the right. Small bones go crick and crack. Oh yes, the news is on again - Sunrise with Kim Insley and Tim McNiff. Sunrise? Who are they kidding with that? At 5:00 am, winter mornings can be mistaken for the inky blackness of 10:00 pm. So cold. So miserable. So Minnesota.

Meteorologist Jonathon Yuhas is getting ready to report. His face is two feet wide by three feet long on this GIGANTIC television. “Well Kim and Tim, we’re nearing 88 hours of temperatures below –20 degrees Fahrenheit,” he says.

I hear a thud outside the front door. The newspaper. A reminder that a new day is here and Dad is still sick. This is awful to say – but I am angry, with Dad. Heroes don’t get sick. Their bodies don’t stop working. Growing up, death was reserved for 3:00 am phone calls from faraway places like India and Kuwait announcing the departure of grandparents and uncles from this earthly life. People to be loved from a far. But Dad?  

The digital clock on the VCR (yes, my parents still have a VCR) turns to 5:30 am and I can no longer prolong the day. I pull myself off the couch and walk up the stairs. The tiled landing is cold. With my stocking foot I kick aside the doormat. Outside air seeps in through the weather-stripping. I know better than this. Even for a five second outdoor journey I really should put on my tundra-rated parka and boots.

With a yank I pull the front door open. Instinctively I knew it was cold. Yet the air, crisp enough to snap, still surprises me. The black morning, naked trees with anorexic limbs and snow banks salted and sanded into a Coke colored slush, startle me.

I reach down for the paper and a wind cuts across my cheeks. The paper is out of my reach and I refuse to step outside. What if I lock myself out? With no outerwear I will certainly die of hypothermia. I don’t know how long it would take, but with the real sunrise at least two hours away who is going to notice my brown body in the white snow in the pitch dark? I can already hear the headlines Kim and Tim are going to announce tomorrow. “A squirrel was found with a yogurt container on its head…Al Franken files another petition against Norm Coleman in Federal Court…this just in, IDIOT MANHATTAN girl visiting IMMIGRANT PARENTS FREEZES TO DEATH outside family home…now back to that fascinating squirrel story…

Forget it, I think and slam the door. The paper can wait until the light of day.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

I'm back! :)

Don't feel bad about the anger - it's natural. When my father had his first serious hospitalization (angina) I felt the same way. They are the parents, they're supposed to be strong...But - and it's a hard reality that roles reverse - each of us just has to come to terms with it. Now, my parents have each had multiple episodes of scary stuff and I am used to thinking of myself (and my brother) as being in-charge...

If I am indulge in some armchair psychoanalysis, (with no background :)) - I'd say part of your problem is also that you, being unmarried, are still not an "adult" in your mind - so to you, your parents are still the strong(er) ones...Allow yourself a period of anger/grief and then maybe have a serious conversation with your family on the logistics of handling such things in the future. If your parents are anything like mine, they will refuse to discuss anything of the kind...that's OK, set up a plan with your brother, bring up little things in conversations at times...you may be surprised - over the last decade, we have managed to come up with some kind of cobbled together idea of what to do - not perfect by any means but there at least..

As for the weather in Minn....blah! There's a reason I live in TX! :) We're in the 80s here (of course, Spring allergies are killing me but that's another story).

M

101 Bad Desi Dates said...

Dear Anonymous (M) -

Welcome back! Yes, and thank you. The anger, for me (since we doing psychoanalysis and I am not qualified either!), was an easier emotion to deal with than fear. Anger, seems red, hot and irrational, burning you up like fire and then you're gone. But fear seems blue, unknown, deep like a pool of water to suck you in. And it is scary stuff. My mother has had some tough medical issues too, but in some weird way she is much stronger than Dad, physically, the pain she and her body can endure is remarkable.

I think to some extent you are right about the adult comment. I am not married, I don't have kids, I live in a rental and I feel like Manhattan has knocked 10 years off of my life, that somehow I have regressed, so I think in many ways this is harder on me than my younger, married with child and mortgage brother.

And we have started having conversations with our parents - and they don't go over very well. They did refuse to hear what we were saying and perhaps they think they will live forever, which is great, I hope they do have long lives.

And it also doesn't help that I have a tendency to over-react and completely freak out when my parents have more then the sniffles, I have always been like this. My brother on the other hand is very calm. But I think we can get them there.

Yes well - this is why I live in NY we actually have seasons (maybe not this year :)

xo,
Desi Girl

Anonymous said...

Oh we have seasons - all 4 of them :) Love our winters - temps well into freezing but very little snow! Yes summers are bad, but hey our houses have fantastic air conditioning - and no, I am not employed by the state of TX. Just saying....

M

101 Bad Desi Dates said...

Dear Anonymous (M) -

YES! the summers sound hot, and AC is fabulous - and I didnt think you work the for the State of TX - LOL!

xo,
Desi Girl