empty picture frame

i couldn’t sleep, which isn’t unusual. my body felt achy. limbs and insides hurt. violently exhausted. no sleep would come. television has more than worn out it’s entertainment value. so i reached for a book that would occupy me while my body wasn’t working.

i have read about 3/4 of the books on my shelves. the other 1/4 i doubt i will ever read. i should sell them to a used bookstore one of these days. instead of going to the unread section, i skimmed the titles for a book called ‘carnal acts’ written by nancy mairs.

i reread the first short story for what was probably the 7th or 8th time. eventually, i stop reading the actual words and just listen to her voice.

i bolt upright and patter down the stairs to my computer.

until then, it had never occurred to me that i could just look nancy mairs up online. that she would be relatively easy to find. she is a published author, after all. maybe she has an assistant that will forward my e-mail to her if it is interesting enough. but what would i say?

here’s what’s weird (to me). instead of searching for her e-mail right away, i felt compelled to find pictures of her first. i had no idea what she looked like. without even thinking about it, it became overwhelmingly important to me that i see her body. that i see the body, the face of this middle aged writer who has multiple sclerosis.

i found pictures. and with little effort, i found her e-mail address. i still have not written her. i do not know what to say. photographs of her did not make it any easier for me to find a way to tell her.... sometimes when i can’t sleep, i listen to her voice.

here is my ‘dailies’ entry for the day after i searched and found nancy mairs:

***i already know that it will feel horrible, tingly, and crude. right now, my obsession seems to be on what it will *look* like. what will i look like when i reach middle age, if i reach middle age? how gnarled will my hands be, how hollow my eyes, how malformed my limbs if i become an elder?

and when i wanted to know more about my fate, and more about you - i searched for pictures/ photographs. i enlarged them and looked carefully and hesitantly at your arms, your hands, your cheeks, your eyes - and searched further for images that included your legs (not shown).

i don’t fear any more. and that is the worst thing. without fear i lay here. i pace sometimes. there is no fear that this is the last day. it really does not matter either way. without fear, it does not matter either way. i am not even attempting to make peace. i don’t think that i am making peace.***