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April 19, 2012
I've been sleeping on my son's twin mattress in the middle of the living room floor. I moved it there a couple of weeks ago after taking it from its previous resting place; the bunk bed bed frame. My boys haven't wanted be alone in their rooms since their mom passed so they have been ending up with me on the couch. The couch just wasn't big enough for the 3 of us. Weeks later the mattress is still being used in the same spot on the floor only moved during the day. Well, sometimes anyway.
So here I am laying on the mattress staring at the ceiling fan as it rotates around.
The shadow of the blades are being cast outward by the outside light illuminating inside through the crevasses of the exposed front windows the drapes failed to fully cover. The light then creeps forward flowing across the ceiling until it touches the fan, casting the shadow of the blades to a larger then life size. I try and count the revolutions of the spinning wind vane to help me fall asleep but it isn't working.
It seems the sandman was going to pass me over again tonight. In all actuality the sandman has nothing to do with my inability to sleep. I really haven't been able to for weeks now since my wife died.
The constant reminders of her are here at home. I turn my head to the left from where I'm lying down. I look at the front door.
It's a thick wood door that's painted white. It has nine squares that are recessed in to the wood of the facade. The squares line up from top to bottom in rows of three that is purely decorative. In the center is a window. It's small, about 1 foot by 1 foot with yellow stained glass. On the left side of the glass there's a small latch that when flipped in an upward position it opens the hinged window enabling you to peer outside to see who's there. Mimie and I always loved that little feature of the door even though the lever was loose and every so often the window would open on its own.
People always talk about how the family sits around the kitchen table for discussions and decisions. But for me life always began with the entrance and exit of the front door. So much can happen when it's open to the outside world. The comings and goings of different people. The trials and tribulations of everyday life behind the closed door. It's a constant reminder that we truly don't know what goes on behind them. It all begins here.
Back when Mimie and I bought the house we were already married. Just coming off our first year of being newlyweds. It's only natural to pursue the American dream of home ownership once you both say ,"I do" isn't it?
I remember how excited we were at the closing table. The stack of paperwork waiting to be signed was nerve racking.
Sign here. Initial there. Sign that. Initial the bottom. Purchasing a home can be down right scary.
It seemed like the closing went on forever. But by 4:00pm the house was ours and with keys in hand we drove over to check out the new purchase. When we pulled into the driveway we were so excited. I mean we've seen the house before when we were looking to buy but this was different after all it was officially ours!
We approached the front door as we surveyed are new domain. The air was fresh. The sky's blue and the grass was green. It was a beautiful day. The mood struck me just right and as I open the door to our new house I briskly bent over and swept in with my right arm suspending Mimie's legs in midair. As she fell back I wrapped her upper body with my left arm and took her off her feet. I then brought her into my body and cradled her in my arms as I carried her across the threshold of our new home. It was a good day.
My memory fades.
Click here for Part II » A Door With a View
https://twitter.com/FusaCmee
April 19, 2012
I've been sleeping on my son's twin mattress in the middle of the living room floor. I moved it there a couple of weeks ago after taking it from its previous resting place; the bunk bed bed frame. My boys haven't wanted be alone in their rooms since their mom passed so they have been ending up with me on the couch. The couch just wasn't big enough for the 3 of us. Weeks later the mattress is still being used in the same spot on the floor only moved during the day. Well, sometimes anyway.
So here I am laying on the mattress staring at the ceiling fan as it rotates around.
The shadow of the blades are being cast outward by the outside light illuminating inside through the crevasses of the exposed front windows the drapes failed to fully cover. The light then creeps forward flowing across the ceiling until it touches the fan, casting the shadow of the blades to a larger then life size. I try and count the revolutions of the spinning wind vane to help me fall asleep but it isn't working.
It seems the sandman was going to pass me over again tonight. In all actuality the sandman has nothing to do with my inability to sleep. I really haven't been able to for weeks now since my wife died.
The constant reminders of her are here at home. I turn my head to the left from where I'm lying down. I look at the front door.
It's a thick wood door that's painted white. It has nine squares that are recessed in to the wood of the facade. The squares line up from top to bottom in rows of three that is purely decorative. In the center is a window. It's small, about 1 foot by 1 foot with yellow stained glass. On the left side of the glass there's a small latch that when flipped in an upward position it opens the hinged window enabling you to peer outside to see who's there. Mimie and I always loved that little feature of the door even though the lever was loose and every so often the window would open on its own.
People always talk about how the family sits around the kitchen table for discussions and decisions. But for me life always began with the entrance and exit of the front door. So much can happen when it's open to the outside world. The comings and goings of different people. The trials and tribulations of everyday life behind the closed door. It's a constant reminder that we truly don't know what goes on behind them. It all begins here.
Back when Mimie and I bought the house we were already married. Just coming off our first year of being newlyweds. It's only natural to pursue the American dream of home ownership once you both say ,"I do" isn't it?
I remember how excited we were at the closing table. The stack of paperwork waiting to be signed was nerve racking.
Sign here. Initial there. Sign that. Initial the bottom. Purchasing a home can be down right scary.
It seemed like the closing went on forever. But by 4:00pm the house was ours and with keys in hand we drove over to check out the new purchase. When we pulled into the driveway we were so excited. I mean we've seen the house before when we were looking to buy but this was different after all it was officially ours!
We approached the front door as we surveyed are new domain. The air was fresh. The sky's blue and the grass was green. It was a beautiful day. The mood struck me just right and as I open the door to our new house I briskly bent over and swept in with my right arm suspending Mimie's legs in midair. As she fell back I wrapped her upper body with my left arm and took her off her feet. I then brought her into my body and cradled her in my arms as I carried her across the threshold of our new home. It was a good day.
My memory fades.
Click here for Part II » A Door With a View
https://twitter.com/FusaCmee
Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.
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