a thousand thousand

I have a new job tutoring at an elementary school in Northwest. The other day in the cafeteria Morgan, who's 6, ran up and wrapped her arms around me. "You're mine, you belong to me! I'm going to take you home with me!" I hugged her and said "I belong to a lot of people, Morgan." I was kneeling in front of Rodrigo at the time, and he asked, "How many people do you belong to?" So I held up my hands and started counting. "My parents, my sisters, my friends, my relatives..." at this point I just started rippling my fingers to count five after five after five, "...my teachers, my bosses, the other students I work with..." "A hundred, right? A thousand?" he asked. "A thousand thousand?"

I have been going to a bereavement group at the health center. It's good. We're unfolding each other's stories so gently. My mood is this really fierce, fragile thing I have to feed all the time. Do you want to know how lame depression is? I am going to show you. There is a list in my mind of things I want to do this weekend. Each one of these things is like a little bit of medicine, a small inoculation, but getting them done is hard. So I am going to list them in a quasi-public space, to build up some obligation. Depression is the ultimate banality. What if it were a matter of life and death whether you got your laundry done? Can you see my eyes rolling from here? This is what I put up with from myself.

* Pay this month's bills
* Go visit my friend in Waco
* Finish my grant application
* Call my friend in El Paso
* Start the Edward Said reading I am presenting on this week
* Sunday morning dim sum at Marco Polo

I almost want to pat it on the head, the sweet little life I’ve been restraining myself from. When I list it I can see it so plain—this is what I want.