I’ve been sitting on the 29th floor of an office building in Rosslyn, Virginia for three days, and it’s starting to make me sad. You can see the city from here, chalky grey monuments and courthouses, as well as the Virginia tree canopy. Everything is lush and verdant out there and the floors in here echo when you step on them. When I walk to the kitchen I pad softly, because I don’t like the noise. People look up with disinterest from their screens.
My mom has staples in her leg and her knee is swollen like a side of pork. Her leg looks inhuman, like dressed meat. I thought it would be worse, but last night I helped her pull on her compression socks without wincing.
I take care of her dog every day, a black puppy that wiggles and snorts and gnaws on my boots. I praise her when she poops and then I pick up the poop. I leave notes in the morning to this effect, detailing her processes. I sign them “XO.”
What should I buy for dinner? That’s what I think about. I drive my mom’s black Mercedes down the GW Parkway every morning and listen to satellite radio. The stations are called things like “Coffee House,” “Lithium” and “BPM.” This is not my life.
A teenager at Giant followed me to my car two days ago, claiming she needed to retrieve my cart when I was done loading groceries. At my open trunk she paused, shy: “Can I ask you a personal question?” She wanted to know where I’d gotten my nosed pierced. We talked for a couple minutes about options in the area and I told her to always use hollow needles for cartilage piercings, never guns, and she looked startled. I was telling her things she didn’t know. “Have a good day,” she said afterwards, pushing my cart away, and I felt happy and strange.
“Lithium” plays things like Smashing Pumpkins and Foo Fighters. They make jokes about Unplugged.
I feel old here, oh I feel old. My nephew expounds on the dive bar he frequents and tells me to call him up if I’m bored. He’s stoned and I’m not – I don’t get stoned anymore – and I feel old. What would we talk about? He has experiences with the world that are not mine.
Tonight I might treat my mom to something special and pick up sushi for dinner. I might have a go at some yoga before I settle into my wine. I’ve got that book on Rwanda but I’m not making progress. I’m worried it will give me nightmares if I read it before bed.
Three more days and counting, hello Virginia.
