The First Thursday of The Rest of My Life Was Not Terrible

"Why did you hire me!?"

It’s Thursday, the first Thursday of the rest of my life. I was driving to my AA meeting yesterday when my phone rang. It was "Dee," the gal I had hired and trained to replace me at the former job. I actually like her, and she’s done great in her role as program manager.  But she’s facing the exact same issues there that I did: The same aloof and thankless senior management (what's left of it), the same obstacles and blindsides by the contract managers and, once again, insufficient staff to cover the five counties. 

It’s disheartening, is all I'm saying. 

 

* * *

Not me. Yet. 

This morning I’m off to Tai Chi class. It’s only my third and I’m hooked. When I got there last Tuesday, I was the first to arrive. I slipped in as Sufi (Dmitry) went through the entire form, alone in his own world. When he was done, he looked up, saw me, smiled. 

“That was beautiful,” I told him. He told me that he started Tai Chi while he was in college decades ago. The bug bit him hard. Long story short, Tai Chi became his calling. He dropped out of college, opened his dojo, and never looked back. 

I’ve been practicing, and the amazing thing is that in just a week I’ve seen my balance improve. I haven’t been having balance issues necessarily, but it occurs to me that we don’t really think about balance until we lose it. 

A week ago, I found it quite precarious when I attempted to take one slow, deliberate footstep — balancing on one foot, slooooowly raising the other foot, pivoting, and sloooooowly placing the step, heel to toe. By yesterday I was able to complete the move without wobbling all over the place. (Pro tip: Take smaller steps. Also, it’s easier with bare feet.) 

I knew Tai Chi would resonate with me. I’m going to learn the whole form, even if it takes years. It calms me. This Tai Chi thing is here to stay. 

* * *

Like this, but not as ecstatic.

My new piano teacher seems nice. She introduced me to the concept of middle C, tempo, and the difference between whole notes, half notes and quarter notes. I told her I wanted to be playing Elton John songs by Christmas. No problem, she said! She gave me this nifty beginner playbook, and an iPad app, and told me to practice, practice, practice. It’s two days later, and I haven’t practiced at all. But the pressure is on, because on Monday we’re playing our first duet of “Hot Cross Buns.” 

* * *

This afternoon we’re off to Lake Worth. Drew has decided to rent his condo furnished this time around, which means scavenging whatever furniture and trappings we don’t need and dragging it down there. It’s not as bad as it sounds, nothing too heavy and we’re doing it in bits and pieces so it’s not onerous. We might hit the outlet malls on the way home (doubtful) but if we do he can buy me a shirt or something for my trouble. 

* * *

This is what “Thursday” looks like now. This is how it walks and talks, this is how it sounds. This is where we’ll go, this is who we’ll see, this is what we’ll do.  

If it has a sightly convalescent air about it, so what? If my days are spent in my own peculiar version of occupational therapy, so be it. Pass the coloring books. Bring more baskets to weave. 

Because you know what? I'm not anxious. I'm not bored. I'm not angry. For once in my fucking life, I have peace.