Stay with me now, listen:

The thunder rolls and rumbles above my house.  Wind whips through the back door and whistles through the rooms.  The dog paces, restless.  Lightening cracks across the sky.  I stand at the sink, mindlessly washing dishes.  Something struggles to the surface of my mind.

I’m driving; the end of a long trip.  The radio plays an interview.  An actress, a game show.  “Have you ever given autographs, sat at a table and met people?”  the announcer asks.  The lilting voice, the laughter.  “Yes, yes.  It is so strange.  People come to you, excited, animated.  They have a relationship with you.”  A pause. ” And you don’t have one with them.  They say things to you that have such meaning for them.  But not for you.”

I stand and watch the rain from my front door.  The gutter needs cleaning and the water pours over it in great sheaths.  I think, I should fix that, but my brain hears the woman’s voice, over and over.  They say things to you that have such meaning for them.

But not for you.

The dog stands in the living room with an expectant look on her face.  She does not understand why I am on the porch, darkness falling around me, water blowing through the screen.  I shiver.

They have a relationship with you.  And you don’t have one with them.

Stay with me.  Stay with me.  Stay with me.

The quiet house engulfs me.  The phone has rung twice.  My son; one of my sisters.  A friend came for coffee, early, long before the storm.  Another dropped by with a bag of greens from his organic farm.   I chatted on the porch with one of the guys from next door about the vacation which he and his husband took this past week.  Then my voice fell silent.  Only my own thoughts filled the space of my hours.

Meaning.  For them.  But not for you.

I stand in the hallway, letting those words scatter on the scarred wooden floor.  Meaning.  For. You. But. Not. Them. I think about loyalty.  About eternal love.  About commitment.  About the falling away of connections.

The voice of the actress echoes around me:   “People come to you, excited, animated.  They have a relationship with you.  . . And you don’t have one with them.  They say things to you that have such meaning for them.  But not for you.”

A light breaks through the darkness.  It is the cruelest of dawns.

It is the eighth day of the twenty-ninth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Despite everything, my life and my quest for joy both continue.