I feel like I am a center of some universe. It's a small universe, grant you, but I suddenly feel that I have the gravitational force to keep things and people around me in place and moving. It's an interesting experience. I wonder, if God, to some unimaginably humongous degree, feels the same? Good things and bad things spin around, touch my life and, somehow, get sorted out into their own place, where I can deal with them or leave them be.
I feel empowered, that's what the name for it is! Perhaps, because the world exists on reciprocal relationships, the fact that I, mostly, stopped just reacting to events or words or deeds but try to respond to them the best way I can, makes all the difference on the outcomes of those interactions and what I take from them.
Roberta had a gall bladder operation today. Last night I helped her get her things ready and take a shower. We discussed the next day in every detail. Park took off the day before to go on business to Las Vegas. He was not going to come back in time to go to the hospital with us, although, all the while I told Roberta that, one never knows, what Park will actually end up doing!
I set my alarm to wake up at 5:45 am. When it rang this morning, I looked at the clock and saw: 6:32! Somehow, lines in my brain got crossed, and now it was much later than it should've been. I ran to bathroom and then - to Roberta's room. Knock-knock... Knock-knock...
The room was dark. On the floor there was Park's mattress. It meant that he came back despite his earlier assurances. No one answered my calls, though!
The phone rang at that moment. "Dina!" - Roberta's voice! - "I am at the hospital already! We decided that we didn't need to bother and make you also come here!"
It took me a few minutes to sort through my emotions. I did feel a bit disenfranchised. It was a very abrupt departure from last night's plans, after all! Through annoyance I heard a small voice of my conscience: "It's up to them. leave it alone!"
I went back to bed. In the afternoon Park called and told me that, operation went well and Roberta is already in her room under the nurses' care. He, as usual, didn't listen to anything I said, but I was insulated from that by my newly found detachment.
A few months ago I would've been livid. Now I understand the limits of my involvement in Roberta's life and am capable of looking at things coolly. Progress? I'd say so!