Taking Measure

I woke early this morning, pulled myself upright, and sat there in my bed against stack of pillows supported by the headboard. For a very long time I remained in pure silence, gazing at a few random stars through my half-open window, thinking about yesterday, and all of the very dear people, the sea of sweet faces, who came to celebrate the life of my wife—our oldest and newest friends together. One of the faces came to me and said, “This is for you as much as Uyen. This is a testament to you, Mitch.” Until then, I never really considered that. I cannot fully explain, but this—today—feels like a new place where I must begin again without my best friend. Something important occurred yesterday.

Eventually, the sun scaled the far side of the mountains, flushing the cloudless sky orange, then white, finally, blue. Sometime later, the drone of a single motor boat Dopplered from one end of the lake to the other without pause, as if taking measure of the entire expanse. Long after that, the family presently sharing my house began to stir in all the rooms surrounding. A footfall here. Voices there, sounding like stones rolling along the bottom of a river. Cups kissing countertops. Plate clattering against plate.

At a younger age—for many years, actually—I suffered through depression. I bumped along the floor of this life, a maudlin little man. I have since taught myself how to avoid depression by devotedly focusing of all things mundane. I wipe the sides of the kitchen sink twice each day. I line my shoes along the wall in pairs. I stop to pat the head of each cat whenever I find one sitting atop a chair or standing at my feet. I vigorously brush my teeth and try to shave the one whisker John, at work, teases me about missing. I bring work home with me so I can always remain busy. I am not depressed. I am, instead, stuck at some numb point between happy and unhappy. I feel almost as if I have been captured in a clear jar for keeping. I have only my own name and rote habits left for default operation. I am pleased to have my house coming to life around me. I am. I do appreciate all of the dear people. I love them. But if that early morning boat was taking measure, I somehow feel just outside the results.

--Mitchell Hegman