No Way to Travel

A couple of days ago, my grandson texted me to ask if he could come to dinner here this evening. I said sure, and asked what he'd like me to make. He said he'd like lasagna, which I've made for him in the past, and I agreed to do that again.

I wondered at the time if he'd gotten in touch because his mom told him that he should. She and I had talked, the week before, because I'd texted her to say that I hadn't heard from him and wondered how he was doing.

I also let her know that I had some groceries that I wouldn't be using, because of my new low-salt diet, and offered to drop them off if she thought they'd use them. She said they would, so I stopped by the house and we talked for a few minutes then as well.

She said the kids had gotten their 6-week progress reports at school and that he was doing really well in everything but math, which has always been his nemesis.

Anyway, because it's an interim report, the grading is within fairly wide numerical ranges and the surprise was that he was performing between 90 and 100 on Spanish, which he'd failed two years ago along with Italian which, against our wishes, they'd shoe-horned him into last year.

When I got back home, I texted her to suggest possibly getting him a tutor in math--which I would've covered--if that was something he thought would help. She said she'd ask him but I never heard anything back about it.

In the meantime, I was in a quandry about what to do for our meal because, although I had a lasagna recipe that everyone liked, I knew it wouldn't lend itself to adjustment for sodium content.

At first I considered taking a chance and making a low-sodium recipe that I'd found and thought might be good. But I've had so many disappointments, lately, with recipes that others had sworn by, that I decided against doing that.

After all, I wanted to share with him the very best meal that I could provide because he comes here so seldom these days.

So I finally decided to make two complete meals, the tried-and-true one for him--which he could eat part of here and then take home as leftovers, which he likes to do--and the new one for myself which would conform to my diet and provide some stock for my freezer.

So I spent the past two days getting together what I would need and planning how I'd get it done. And I spent almost the entire day today putting the two meals together. I even skipped my daily walk and fitness workout.

Then he gets here tonight and barely says two words. I had told him he could bring his girlfriend, whom I've yet to meet, or his tag-along little sister, who did come with him and with whom I actually had some conversation.

But what a disappointment. And as soon as the meal was over, he wanted to go home. So I packed up the leftovers, along with the dessert that I'd gotten for them, and took them home.

It's disappointing but also concerning because he once again seems so withdrawn, so unable to connect. So unwilling, it seems, to even try.

I know that he's been that way, at times, even with his mother. But he was never that way with me and it's just, I dunno, baffling and hurtful and hard to know what to do with.

I feel the loss, for myself, but also feel a deep and disquieting concern for him.

He only lives a few miles down the hill from where I now live. But he's now, somehow, a lifetime away.

And it's a distance that I have no way to travel...

LPK
Dreamwidth
10.21.2018

 

That Insurmountable Wall

Woke up from a strange dream this morning. I was riding what seemed to be an electric motorbike which, in itself, was pretty wierd.

But as I was riding, I had a memory of being pursued, sometime earlier that day, by a gang of thugs who were also on motorbikes.

It reminded me, after I thought about it, of the traffic up and down Duval Street in Key West where it seemed like every other vehicle was a fast-moving motorbike.

Anyway, I was suddenly aware of another bike riding close behind me. And that when I sped up, the other one did too.

Figuring I was outnumbered, as I had been earlier, I made a sudden left onto a side street and found myself riding down what looked like the stairs of an outdoor stadium.

As I turned, my pursuer flashed by, going too fast to make the turn.

She had long, blonde hair which flew out behind her as she rode. And I realized that she'd been trying to catch up with me and that, now, what we both might've wanted could never happen because I'd misread the situation, had made the turn.

And so I kept on, trying to get up speed for the hill rising in front of me. But then, as I neared the top of it, my wheels bogged down in the deep snow that was suddenly around me.

Finally, I reached a granite wall which was at the very top of the hill and was struggling to hold onto it and to lift my bike over it.

And then I awoke, still holding on to that insurmountable wall...

LPK
Dreamwidth
10.21.2018