I was crying last night. It was a horrible day yesterday
on many fronts for many reasons. The really big trade show begins
tomorrow, so many things I've hosed up, my nerves were terrible.
So many things to find out at the last minute we were not at all ready
for.
Last night I woke up to Boober coughing at 2:30, then had to go to the
bathroom. Couldn't get the toilet to flush. The water is not
working, at all, hasn't since the middle of the night. I tried to
lie down and sleep, but all the recent failures and the problem with the
water, and everything that still needed doing, oh god how it buzzed around
in my head.
I have a closet that was full of clean clothes. Every time I've
needed to straighten the place up in a hurry, whatever clean clothes that
were back from the laundry but not put away got tossed into that closet,
and it was getting horrible trying to find things to wear. So last
night I sat down with lots of coat hangers and a box for stuff that needed
to go to Goodwill, and I hung every thing that needed hanging, folded everything
that needed folding, and tossed into the dirty clothes everything Spodie
had peed on. I was angry at Spodie.
I held up a white shirt for the hangar, and saw something in the breast
pocket. Receipt, maybe, or a post-it note. I reached inside
and found a dollar, but it was folded too flat to be a whole dollar.
It was my half dollar from ***. I'd lost it months ago. I'm
not sure what happened in me, but suddenly I was crying. Relief?
Lost hope? What? I really don't know. I couldn't even
tell whether I was happy or sad.
It had been eating at me. I'm not superstitious, but it couldn't
help but occur to me in irrational moments that the reason for the troubles
was that I lost the half dollar. I was just speaking of him a few
hours before, telling El Prez about the word I gave *** to bring him to
any location in the US of his choosing, whether I could afford it or not,
once he is ready to come to the US to live.
El Presidente was upset because I gave that word in better times, before...
I maintained that my word is my word, regardless who I give it to, it is
a matter of integrity to keep it. That's why we must be careful to
whom we give our word, and why it's important not to commit unless you
are sure. He doesn't understand. He thinks that there are many
circumstances that absolve you from keeping your word. I believe
that there are very few.
Anyway, can it be seen as a sign of some kind? I do not usually
think of omens, but this is too coincidental. All along I've been
betting that nothing will come of it, that he won't want to leave ### and
she won't want to come along, that he won't ever get his US passport ready,
that he won't bother arranging for a job, or accepting anyone's help in
finding one. It's just odd that this turns up now.
It was so startling, after a day full of startling things.
There were lots of little notes in my head earlier
last night that I wanted to commit here, and then forgot. They will
probably come again. They sometimes do.
