It is quiet here, so quiet that I woke up this morning to the sound of a wasp crawling up a window and then falling down to the bottom, only to start the whole thing again. The wing flutters as gravity pulled the wasp down was the only noise in the apartment. This is a far cry from home- for all I know, there may be insects buzzing about my place, but I would never hear it above the din of the cars outside and the downstairs-neighbor's techno music pulsing and the upstairs-neighbor's yoga periodic thudding of his feet against my ceiling.
Even now, the sound of my typing on this laptop is cutting through the silence. The poor wasp- I am normally quite afraid of anything in the wasp/bee/spider category, but this morning, I feel sorry for this wasp, who laboriously pulls himself up the window pane, only to plummet down again. There are no flowers here, there is nothing for him here to sustain himself. He's expending his final allotted energy on a thoroughly futile task, and I can't bring myself to stop him.
The tapping of the keys- I try to keep it softer than usual. In the other room, I can hear K's breathing machine, the one she has to use at night. The things we all think of as involuntary are voluntary for her- she has to will herself to breathe. Whenever I am with her, I think of that, think of her sheer power of will.
Her apartment is painted in bright, cheery tones. It looks like a beach-front condo, and I know that is just the look she was going for. K loves the beach, the tropics, the ocean against hot sands, fiery sunsets. I've always preferred the shores of my youth, the rocky ones against slightly grey skies. I've preferred cities over resorts when I have thought of places to vacation. But I get it, looking at her apartment walls; I can see through her eyes for just a moment and see why it is she is so enamoured of the sun and the sand.
Tomorrow, I leave to see the other side of my family, the rambunctious side- the side that brags about getting plastic surgery and wanting a new car for Christmas like in the commercials. I chose to visit K for a day before all that, because I know by now that the holidays annoy me when they are without soul.
On the other hand, I suspect I will have quite a bit of time to blog then, which I will not be able to say here once K wakes up.
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