I Can Breathe, Again

I tried mediating after we came back from a film, my partner had crashed, saying wake me in 10 minutes to run. The AC was blasting and I settled in on my pillow on the floor, setting my alarm for an hour. Watching my breath, and with-in 5 minutes I could feel the hair on my arm stand up. Was it because of awareness or some follow-through from the movie we saw that touched my heart?  Earlier, I lost my breath with the emotions I felt, but was rudely assaulted by the heat and sun of day after the theatre. Weaving through busy traffic we took off to find someplace to have lunch. I put my finger to my heart, it is right there, noting. I wanted to sit down and cry, so inappropriate for where I was.  I am stumbling, he says, “watch out,” cars are coming from everywhere yet no one beeps, and 5 kids all less than 6 years old are playing in pond within a half a meter by railroad tracks right our feet. The guards on rail crossing come down and we stop for the train, just in time for me to get my breath.  I don't hear the warning sound, but can see the red blinking lights. The kids don’t register us being right beside them, am I alive? I look at the passengers in the train as it goes by, and they don’t connect with me either. Where are they going? I attempt to smile, but the heat is unraveling me.

Back the breathe, I found myself nodding off. “Damn, I getting old and need a nap everyday with this injury.” I know frustration appears faster if I don't listen to my body. I abandon the sit, and crawl in bed with my now sound asleep partner. I sleep for an hour, fully dressed. Who can wake someone when they obviously enjoy sleep, after that totally frustrating Friday, where he left in rain, walked through floods, slipped and fell on the way to work. He came later that night with packages of gifts for his Mom to mail. I could feel his near defeat from the day, but luckily had fish dinner all ready for him with his favorite vanilla cream puffs for dessert.  I held him and he showed me his wound from falling, and he wanted to cry but wasn’t really able to admit the defeat. Then a small animal cry bounced out at the imaginary bully in charge of life. I massaged his wound with pain cream, and let him unwind after a shower. He will do what is necessary, he made it this far against a lot of odds. I watched him eat, and he offered some food. He is always thinking of others. “No, Thank you,” I say, thinking that I bought this food for him, I wasn’t thinking about me at the time.

I turn off the A/C, it was getting too cold for me, and I wanted to hear him breathe. He awakens, glances at his watch, and moans but loving his nap he just throws back the covers as the heat re-enters the room, and mentally dives back in. I’m awake right now, with the hall sounds of packing and cleaning of another apt, but done in polite manner. It is quiet, and dark with the sun already packed up and I want this moment to last. He breathes peacefully, piano music is playing softly by Einuadi. So it seems foolish to join him in sleep, when I feel the love we share. He can sleep as long as he needs. He needs to unload yesterday. When his cell phone chimes a cute Isan tune, he just rolls over and puts his arm on my chest. Two hours later, he wakes up and says, "When you go to Myanmar for a month, I'll be so lonely," giving me a squeeze.