One of my cats is captured by the bright light of my laptop as I write this and as the cloudy sunset captures mine. (It’s Wisconsin, what can I say? We have lots of “cloudy sun!”)
The experts call it a “transition,” what a nice work to use instead of saying, “You’re in a hole, a deep hole” that doesn’t appear to have a ladder. This is the “in betweens” I’ve loved to write about but this “between” is a bit too pinching when it happened to me.
“Why look to the forward when you haven’t finished the past,” I read somewhere. I wonder what change she was going through and if she “finished” her past.
“Finishing.” No idea what that means. If corporate standards abruptly finished me, my “finishing” is now my forced task? What is there to finish when the finishing was finished for me in one, long sentence with no feeling or appreciation for the many “finishings” I furnished for many years for older adults. (Funerals)
“Give yourself time,” is a comforting reminder from friends when time is all I have to give myself. Time for what? I’m getting pretty good at staring at something for no reason. I click out of it and find something else to stare down. (My apartment has never been cleaner and I promised myself to do laundry three weeks ago. “Tomorrow, tomorrow!”)
The soft word “transition” reminds me when garbage collectors became “sanitary engineers” as though they attended MIT and a secretary became an executive assistant. This is not a “transition” for me because the past would then meld with the present. This period is one-sided: focused purely on the past and what happened.
When I find a new position, then I can use the word “transition” but until then I’m in a hole with lots and lots of time surrounding me.
My other cat is sound asleep in the other room. I think that’s the cat capturing the dream of my next step.