Through these Eyes Part 67

Well, I got over it. I guess I just didn't feel like facing reality or my life's idea of "normalcy" yet.

July 29, 1985... I had a great surprise... Jon sent 6 long stemmed roses to me saying, "I hope you get better soon." It was so nice and so unexpected, especially since I've been feeling rather isolated lately. I wrote him a thank you letter.

Aug. 1, 1985... I got a letter from Jon; another nice surprise. A letter can be held and read over and over again; a phone call is soon just a memory. I have the "runs" again. Mom brought tea and warm bagels all day. It helps a lot.

Aug. 11, 1985... I've decided to sell the Chevette and my Viscount (bike); it's so stupid... they just sit there and I'm not going to get any better. I'm 39 inches around the middle. The bike was $156 new and it's in good condition. I'm asking $75 for it.

Mom did a raft of typing this past week. I sat on the front steps with Mom and Dad in the afternoon. It was 75 degrees and so beautiful.

Aug. 25, 1985... It's strange, but when Mom and Dad are gone all day, like yesterday, I feel half mad when they return. The truth is that I'm not mad, I'm only in need of some conversation. I need to tell someone about my concerns, or at least have someone around. I do want them to go out; they need to get away. I had the runs; I'm rather amazed also, by my ever-growing shape. . . it's hideous! And I have tons of water retention. Oh, well! It wasn't my best day; I wrote all day, anyway.

Sept. 11,1985... The Chevette has been sold. I should get a refund on my insurance, too. The girl came with her boyfriend to pick up "her"

car last night. Dad took a personal check for it; I wish he would have said "NO" to it, but they are probably OK. If not, I just sold my car for $100. (Great)

I couldn't sleep for a while, because I was worried about the check.

So... I got up and clipped my toe nails! (What therapy.) (And it didn't cost a cent.)

Today it is 70 degrees, sunny, a slight breeze, ah! I also have the check in my account. Dad phoned to see how much of a refund I'd receive on my insurance. . . it's just $50. Not exactly half of what I paid for the 6 months, but they're not giving up anything!

I found the 4th and 5th grade postcards I sent to Mom and Dad from my camp. They will go in my book.

Yesterday Margaret and I went to lunch. At the cash register the guy said, "Looks like it'll be in the winter." I couldn't figure out what he meant for a second, but then I realized that he thought I was pregnant. I said I had a "liver ailment" and that many made the same a.s.sumption. It never floors me at the time, but later I have to admit that it bothers me. I start thinking about it; I get mad at myself because there's no way for me to look stylish. I used to try to belt big tops and "blouse" them over pants. Now, it looks ridiculous. I never thought I could get this big; having to wear maternity clothes and such. . . but then, I never thought a lot of things. Swelling legs, going from a 31-I/2 inch span (in my middle) in the fall of '83 to a 39 inch middle now. (Normally I had a 24 inch waist... I thought I was enormous then!) It's funny, but it just keeps on going, and you have to accept it. At least my face is OK and I can enjoy some things. I can see and hear and am reasonably mobile. . .and I've known what it is to feel physically normal. Some people never do.

Sept. 13 through 15... Weather has been gorgeous! I've been able to sit outside. It always inspires me to write poetry. One is about how life never really changes.

Continuity

The tenth morn of December I was severed from my mother's life, Forced into a hostile world And with a cry, drew my breath.

Christmas came, then New Year's Eve, Yet nothing really changed.

Days pa.s.sed by, and soon, years too.

My eyes focused on the world Which offered more than it received.

I found love, and later, fear...

Then grief, and peace of mind; I witnessed death and mourned for life. . .

Yet nothing really changed.

The world revolved and buried sorrow In a mask of time.

Now I am weak, The refuge of malignant death, But still the seasons flicker on.

Leaves adrift, float to the ground, While acorns burrow in the earth; Remnants of life And the hope thereof Together meld as one.

When I depart, Life slows not...

And nothing will really change.

Lauren Isaacson September 15, 1985

Meditation On The Wind

In the trees, cool breezes sing, Directing leaves with steady gusts And urging forth pure harmony From swaying, fully laden limbs.

No sweeter sound could ride the wind Than gently rustling woodland brush; I drink the soothing music Playing lightly on the wind, And instantly I feel refreshed, For whispering leaves wipe cares away And liberate imprisoned minds.

Lauren Isaacson September 16, 1985

Sept. 29, 1985... I have been so swollen lately. My middle hurts when I lay too long; getting up helps. I have the runs; couldn't go to Dubuque for Mom's Sept. birthday; couldn't go to Margaret's to celebrate her mother's birthday. I finally spent 2 hours of the afternoon just sleeping. I finished a poem I was writing about Norm.

It follows...

Eternal Bond

Captured on a dismal morn When winter's cloak Concealed the sun, My brother journeyed From the earth, Perhaps to grasp another time, Or rest beneath the heaven's stars.

Perfect sorrow filtered deep Within my mournful soul; With sightless eyes I scanned my mind, Rendering memories whole. . .

And images, like broken shards, I struggled to restore Lest any trait be left behind And thus, in death, forever die.

Crippling grief and grim despair Withdrew its shadow from my heart, For in myself, his life went on; The steadfast and eternal bond Which formed in life Failed not in death.

We laughed, we smiled, We understood, And though I now must walk alone, To loneliness I'll not succ.u.mb.

Lauren Isaacson September 29, 1985

Oct. 17, 1985... It's great this time of year, although melancholic. I sat outside most of the day. Then, as I watched this "mite" of a squirrel, he struggled furiously to retain his grasp on a branch. He frantically succeeded in attaining a safer location; he was noticeably upset. It inspired a poem. I wrote one the day before; I'm not overly thrilled about it, but that's life.

Autumnal Essence

Splendor, bold and riotous, Bespeaks the grand autumnal mood.

Blackbirds cackle unrestrained Among the trembling golden wood While agitated squirrels bury nutmeats 'Neath the fragrant turf.

Fruit trees, heavy-laden, bend Their branches toward the earth, Spilling wealth from fertile lands Into eager, out-stretched hands.

Lauren Isaacson October 16, 1985