Sunday, February 21, 2010

There's irony, and then there's irony

I’m thinking it’s not depression after all, but anxiety. When I wake in the morning and thought on its own begins to go here and there it takes only an instant and the anxiety is there in the abdomen, the place below the rib cage. It’s there, and it’s swollen, and then I am aware that the heart muscle is constricted. It’s interesting, but it’s very uncomfortable. So thought wakes and without any preliminary, with no hesitation, it fixes itself onto the issues of income mixed with what we understand is the plight of our daughter, her fate. When you’re eighty years old you are supposed to have learned (ahh, the irony) how to make a living, and you are supposed to have learned how to accept the implicit tragedy of family, a place where irony is unknown.

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