Solitude - not for sissies

A CASE FOR SILENCE

I go to my living room, find my favorite chair, take out my iPad and watch Burden of Proof. The house is silent so, along with a glass of lemonade, I delve into my perfect solitude. I do my best daydreaming when surrounded by silence.

The alternative is to swim in loneliness. I miss my wife terribly; although, there are times I feel her presence in the house. No ghost is she; rather, she is a warm and a welcome, subtle ripple in the air. All in my head probably, but still comforting.

Generally, upon my wife's death, I think people felt a miasma of loneliness and despair would fill my future, but it didn't. In the quiet of my situation, I whisper her name and wish her good morning and good night. I am never really alone.

I am glad I am an introvert because I honor silence and aloneness. I can be alone even in a crowded room. I just retreat into myself and live in my bizzaro world where poetry has taken root and rhymes are alive and making a racket; but, I need a little real noise; OK, a lot of noise, in short spurts, to keep from growing old. My grandchildren provide enough clatter to fill that role and I love the fact my entire family is concerned about me, frequently calling or dropping in. That is noise that surpasses my quiet, zen existence. I look forward to their calls and visits. I am incredibly patient, But when the children leave, I am exhausted and I wallow in my solitude. I have no choice. Silence is a part of me.

THE LADY OF SHALOTT AND ME

I did break the curse yesterday. I went to the local Safeway without incident. It was eerie to see the bakery and meat counter closed and even weirder to see the paper towel and toilet paper aisle devoid of product, like some old communist Russian cold war grocery.

A word, if you will, on the virus that is keeping me housebound. I know it will be defeated eventually but it is a struggle. Every evening we check the numbers but they keep rising. My genuine gratitude to our front-line soldiers, the medical heroes

I am getting emotional, almost teary-eyed. Many parkies have hyper-emotions and find themselves weeping at the strangest time. It is a common symptom of PD, just another gem of our condition. I am the worst.

I can get emotional at the sight of linoleum!

A note to our southern neighbours. If you are a fan of Trump

"Remember, democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts, and murders itself. There never was a democracy yet that did not commit suicide."

John Quincy Adams