Used Up Luxury

A cream-colored sectional occupied the living room in front of the fireplace.  A teal, barn red and golden floral chair stood to the left side.  Only the chaise reveals almost used up luxury.  That and the cushion closest it.  A nubby fabric which picked up every color whether it be jeans, cotton, knits.



A broken nearly new brass piano lamp once provided light near the chair.  Until my granddaughter decided to scoot between the end table and the chair.  Sometime toddlers inevitably do.  Other than that, the light had rarely been used over the past twenty-five years.  The halogen light had been replaced since her encounter, but the electronics in the piano lamp were messed up.  I was glad it finally got some use. if only by a toddler  Sadly, it was a small lamp and fix the space perfectly.  I don't plan to remove it, either.

That room became a monument.  A monument to solitude, a life that wasn't meant to turn out this way. Bittersweet.  But it does house me and delightfully so.  I miss the parties I use to have.  It is harder now.

I think about my losses recently.  A man dear to my heart, my dogs, my physicality, my furnishings. I want things to be different.  But why?  Why do we spend so much time concerned about outcomes?  We worry, stew, we hope.  It doesn't affect anything but have a negative impact on our bodymind.

Emotional intelligence.  That thing that eludes so many people.  We understood the theory.  At least, this writer does.  Applying it, well that is the stuff of metal.  Some days I just don't have it.

After my second mammography visit, a repeat from Friday - a call back it is termed left me on and off alone for nearly two hours in the radiology department.   First a set of films, then a call back.  A spot they said.  It turned out to be a lymph node.  I couldn't hold back tears when the physician said it was fine.

"See you in a year," she said.

A year.  Another year to pull it together.  To use up the luxury.  To wear it down.  To end the loneliness.  Then I met a new friend.

At dinner in a nearby town.  She was in distress, having just moved herself, her six dogs and eight cats.  She was trying to get her electric started in her new home.  At once, my attention turned to help her in her plight.  She will have electricity tomorrow morning.  She also has a new friend.

The luxury of it all.  In a world all to distant, a few words said it all.

"You are fine," said the physician.

"Thanks for helping me," said the new friend.

Used up luxury?  I think I have just begun.