Remember that old Dionne Warwick song (actually Bacharach/David, but originally recorded by D.W., covered by many singers since) "A House is Not a Home"?
A chair is still a chair, even when there's no one sittin' there
But a chair is not a house and a house is not a home
When there's no one there to hold you tight
And no one there you can kiss goodnight
That's how I'm feeling. I'm home three days from Youngstown where it was hot and humid to Tucson where it's hotter and almost as humid. It ain't no dry heat this week!
I feel overwhelmed with sadness and depression. I feel alone. I wonder what's the point of having a big beautiful house when you just knock around it by yourself, or with one emotionally needy cat. Rudi lays on my chest when I go to sleep and again as soon as I wake up, but it ain't the same thing, if you get my drift. And when I talk to him, he meows back. I have to intuit what he might mean. (Oh, right, he means "feed me".)
I feel alone and despairing of ever finding another job that will get me closer to Youngstown and absent of hope of having someone in my life (other than children and grandchildren) to love and be loved by.
And I'm overwhelmed by tasks for Pi Beta Phi and Tucson Chamber Artists. I must learn to say "no"!
Gotta run. One newsletter down, one to go.
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