Work Days

I find it very difficult to work well lately.

Every day, I drive my daughters around. This interrupts my day and splits it into little chunks.

My older daughter has a sleep disorder. Waking her up and getting her going each day takes a lot of focus and effort from me. I look forward to the day when she will be fully responsible for her own actions. Whether she will learn to adapt and thus succeed, or whether she will flounder for a while, I am ready to let her find out for herself. I doubt that she will find other people - roommates, boyfriends - who will be willing to help her as much as she now needs. But we will see. There are very helpful, caring people in the world, and she is a generally charming and fun person to be around, so someone may find her worthwhile.

My parents are buying a new house. This has required a lot of research and hand-holding on my part. Some aspect of the sale process require phone calls and attention from me every day. My mom and I talk several times a day about new inspections, finances, or whatever. I hope the sale will go through quickly and this phase will end soon. I am inpatient for them to simply be in their new home, comfortable and happy and close to us so that we can see them more often.

My dad continues to become more ill. This is a very hard process. Every week, he has lost a little bit more of his self - a bit more comprehension, a bit more movement, a bit of language. It is like watching your loved one die before your eyes, but slowly, and knowing that you cannot do anything about it. 

I hope they are able to move into their new house quickly enough that my dad will be able to appreciate it and enjoy it. I hope that instead of missing his home of 40 years, he will be able to find the pleasures of the new, smaller yard, the lap pool, and the view. Of a brighter, newer home with better heat and cooling. Of pavement for his walker and cane and wheelchair. It seems more humane at this point to care for him in this new home instead of an assisted living facility. I hope it works.

I would love some day to sit down to my work and feel like work is all I have to think about. As it is, work is interrupted by transport and errands and appointments. Today I must get the van fixed. And arrange alternate transportation. I do not have the luxury of losing myself into my work for hours at a time.

Usually, when I work, I feel like I am just doing a skillful impersonation of a grant writer at work. I produce grant after grant. Many of them are quite good; a fair amount get funding. Nonetheless, I cannot quite shake the feeling of being the man behind the curtain and waiting for the whole business to collapse around my ears. Especially when I am trying to squeeze it in around the rest of my life, and squeeze the rest of my life in around it.

And fiction? Other writing? What's that? Oh, yes, I remember my twenties and thirties when I had the time to write without purpose, just for the fun of it. To take classes. To journal. Maybe in a few more years, I can stop being a valet and a driver, and return to being more of a writer.