Somewhere the Silence

October is here.  And I'm writing this on a dimmed screen in a darkened room as I recover from eye surgery.  Eye surgery which I bought from Groupon, of all places.  The power of the discount seems to know no bounds.  I hadn't expected it to take 

place so soon, that it seemed as the weeks went by, I was pushed farther and farther away from writing. 

At first the stunned silence post Mr. X was to be expected.  The wound was glaring, a disappointing systemic shock which seemed better treated with quiet.  A tiny holy lull to honor a leaf as it fell from a tree. Parting happens everyday to all sorts of people, an event so comfortingly common yet no less painful for either the tree or the leaf.  Who is what?  It doesn't really matter anymore, just that it happens.  

We deal with how it echoes our prior losses and threatens future hopes.  It takes our words, it makes us solemn.  For a little bit.  

---

Then came a momentous visit from my 88 yr old father followed by yet another debacle with the Chinese faction of the family whom we traveled to see.  It was well intended but I'm convinced being force-fed every lunch and dinner for 4 days in a row at the Asian Pearl, a venue so patently un-pearl like in its sanitation standards, while arguing how vegetables glistening in oil or exotic organ meats aren't diabetic friendly which my Dad happens to be, is pure, unadulterated torture.   Of course, I was glad to be with my Dad but the visit was a capsule.  

By capsule, I mean a good yet bitter pill.  In a week, I was besieged with nostalgia and happiness, grateful for his health and our time together yet still familiar with the rage that came up when confronted by restrictions of that culture.   And not to be left behind, sadness at recognizing how so many things I'd struggled with simply came from being raised by someone of a different age that couldn't see its oppressiveness towards women.  

---

Seeing my Dad was the start of a real distance from all that, like any daughter I'd referenced so much of my understanding of myself as a woman on my mother.  The things she'd said, been adamant about, the over-corrections she made, became clearer as I dealt with my father as an adult emotionally equipped to understand right from wrong.  

Now this time together unrolled the equation that made me, so starkly - it was almost mathematical.  Like it or not, we are our people.  

With no blame or regret, it was enough to finally feel clear sighted and bigger than the mysteries of my childhood. It's undoubted that it's still all unraveling inside me, with no real need for hawkishness or obsession.  There's a natural relief as I feel myself backing away from it, one step at a time, because I'd found information that finally removed the lop-sidedness in the viewpoint I'd held before.  Something I was always secretly suspicious of. And that now, my compassion was equal for both my parents, when it hadn't been the case before.  

So you see, dear readers, there isn't one word I could use for all this.  This marbling of grief and joy, gratefulness and sorrow.  This is at best, an explanation of my absence.  The Universe, perhaps in its infinite kindness, threw one project after another at me and I'd also found myself birthing a business with skills I knew I had but am constrained from fully using at the day job.    

Months ago, I'd sent the Pegasus a book called The Way of Transition, and if it had taught me anything, I was slip-sliding into one right now.  Is it any surprise therefore, that after completing the project, finally being lover-less and watching the circle slowly close on my family of origin issues, the opportunity for better sight came along? 

---

It seems ridiculous to say now that I had lasik surgery based on a Groupon deal so good I just couldn't say no to it.  Drugged up, I'd joked to the medical receptionist post surgery that it wouldn't be long before someone could quip they'd got their boobs from Groupon.  The surgeon laughed calling me funny and played along, even while I tensed when I lost sight for a few minutes.  After the Frugens got me home they carefully installed me in their second bedroom, where I'm told I slipped into an almost coma-like stupor that they'd been having friendly arguments over my prone figure as to whether or not they ought to wake me.  Apparently this had gone on through the night.  

They were relieved when finally, I'd staggered out of bed 24 hours later, asking what time dinner was and why it was so flipping bright.  I'd been under the impression I was only out for an hour or two, not a whole day.  

"Darling, it's 9," Frugen #1 patiently explained.  "9?," I repeated holding on to the walls as my eyes adjusted, "then why is it still light out?  Odd for 9pm, it's like summer."  I was feeling my head and realized they'd taped hard plastic eye shields to my face, I winced as I ripped them off. 

"No, sweetie, it's 9 AM the NEXT day, you've been out for a day," they repeated in unison.  I blinked, thinking it was a joke, looking for my phone to check the time and finally noticing they both looked bed-worn themselves.  "You're a really easy patient to take care of,"Frugen #2 piped up, "you never stirred.  Not once, sweetie!" 

Well.  Could this be my own fairy tale of sorts?  Sleeping Beauty even if it were courtesy of a Xanax, Cinderella with the clear plastic eye shields rather than the shoes, Two Fairies in place of one?  Or realizing that even without Mr. X, I was still in Wonderland.  After all, we hadn't even had breakfast and at least one impossible thing already happened.  

I couldn't see well before and now I could.  Clearly.  I sat up and smiled at both of them beaming at me, wondering what other five impossible things there were that I could look forward to.