spynotes ::
  January 28, 2007
Vanishing

It is cold, so cold that the drafts of the house are inescapable. So cold that I wore a heavy fleece robe over my sweatshirt as I huddled over my morning coffee and oatmeal. So cold that the snow that is falling in fine dusty flakes is not melting on the backs of the horses in the field next to our house, giving the impression that they are in the process of being erased. So cold that even AJ has consented to wearing socks inside his Spongebob Squarepants slippers as he dances around to the house to his favorite instrumental funk or pretends to play for the Chicago Bulls with the basketball hoop hooked over the door to his room.

The wind is fierce and is blowing snow around in great whorls, shimmying it up from the lower deck, swooping it off the roof in baroque curlicues that dissolve into the air. It is a good day to stay inside. Yesterday�s recycling is stacked neatly by the front door, as no one can bear to step outside even the few feet to the garage for fear of being scoured to death.

Mr. Spy is holed up in his office muttering about Kentucky. Unable to concentrate enough to write properly, I�ve been outlining paragraphs in the margins of my paper. I think I�ve figured out how to finish it. If only I can finish it today. I still have another presentation to write this week. In my fear of being left presentationless this year, in an effort to prevent the breaking of all my eggs in one basket, I�ve found myself left with too many eggs, too much talking in front of people, too much to write, too much to say.

My great struggle this month has been to change my habits, most especially my habit of self-sabotage, of not trusting �good enough.� I am trying to learn how to do things instead of worry about them, trying to learn how not to make myself (and, by extension, those who have to live with me) miserable. And still I find myself choosing to panic about the three days AJ has off of school nearly three weeks from now instead of worrying about finishing the paper right away. It�s no puzzle. I�m afraid of everything these days. It�s why I can�t stand the wrinkles in the mirror. Nothing ages like fear.

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