Confessions and Reflections

My addictions and obsessions change by the day, the hour, the minute.

For example, last night I thought I could go for a salad with grilled shrimp.  I thought about it while I fell asleep.  I looked forward to eating one later while I drank my morning coffee.  I thought about it as I waited to see what was for lunch at our meeting at work today.  I thought about it on my way to dinner.  It was my singular thought for the better part of 18 hours until I found it on the menu, ordered it, and inhaled it.  Once I was sated, I moved on. 

From 4:00-5:30PM today, I was obsessed with a boy (man?) that I very loosely work with.  He has a totally hot voice and a pretty good body to boot.  He's also in grad school at an Ivy League University-- not too shabby.  But at 4 o'clock today, I noticed his lips.  My GOD his lips.  They were my solitary study for the entire rest of my day.  (Good thing I didn't see him at 11AM.)  I even volunteered (volunteered! me!! at work!!!) to take care of a pain-in-the-ass task so he'd have to come to my office.  (OK, this sounds creepy but I swear I'm not sitting there in a van giving out candy, luring the six men in my building to get in and go for a ride.)  His lips were all over my mind, and in turn all over my...Anyway, I had to leave for the day before he swung by and my thoughts quickly returned to a salad with grilled shrimp.  I passed him on my way out the door and melted for a split-second, then kept on keepin' on.

After dinner, I swung into my favorite stores to see if they had anything for me to wear to a wine-tasting party Saturday night.  It's semi-formal, so naturally none of the 36 little black dresses I have can cut it.  As soon as I walked in, I saw it.  It had modest front coverage but still showed good cleave.  It had an open cut-out back, but I could wear a bra with my crazy extension band thing from Vicky's.  I didn't buy it because I was in a rush and wanted to hold out in case I saw something I like better, but that is doubtful.  I tried it on and it fit like a glove.  I'm in l-o-v-e.  I can't get it off of my mind.  I even have it open in another window right now and am flipping back and forth between droning on here and fantasizing there.  Once I get this feeling, I know I can't be stopped.  This dress will be my salad with grilled shrimp.  I will inhale it.

Through all of this though, I have one main mentation: my aunt is dying.  She had a massive stroke and they don't think she'll live through the night.  That isn't what I'm really fixated on though.  What I can't stop my mind from wandering back to is the image of this ring she wears-- a letter K with a diamond in it.  When I was around nine years old, she told me that she would give it to me when she dies because I'm her only relative with a "K" name. The ring the ring the ring.  For some reason I'm having trouble seeing it clearly and it's driving me mad. The ring the ring.  It was taking over me most of this evening.  I felt selfish-- how could I be thinking about something so shallow, so material and meaningless right now?  Who cares if I get it!  What kind of a person am I?  And then I realized that I am not thinking about the ring, I am thinking about everything it means.

When I was nine, that deathbed-style promise seemed so far off.  I thought I'd be old-- a grown-up, I'd have children of my own.  I also thought she would be old.  I remember telling my mom what she said and her responding that I was ridiculous, what if she had grandchildren with a K initial?  She's only my aunt by marriage.  What a silly promise, she said, and laughed it off.  But I remembered, and she won't live to see any grandchildren with K initials.  I'm it.  I'm as far as she got and all she knows.  It's a weighty responsibility, being the end of a line.

I think to me, this ring was almost a symbol for my life.  For a generation slowly moving to the background and a new generation, my generation, taking the stage.  I'm not ready yet though.  I don't want the spotlight, keep the curtain down.  I don't feel grown up.  I just saw a Disney movie in the theater for chrissake.  My parents still pay for my cell phone.  When I go home I take groceries from them for my apartment.  My mother reimburses me the cost of my train ticket.  This isn't grown up.  What am I?  Where am I?  Don't leave yet. 

I think this ring also represents my relationship with her.  Without the ring, what will I have?  A photograph?  That isn't a symbol of love, of shared holidays and barbecues, of backyard pool parties and her questionable cooking, of stories told, of sleepovers and weekends there, of traditions and funny songs.  I need something tangible, proof of her existence, proof that I didn't just imagine the last 26 years.  How will I remember these things?  How will I carry them with me?  How will I tell them to my children?  Who will be my K?

And who will wear the ring now?  Once that small thing-- that tiny gold circle-- changes hands and finds a new home, my life will invariably be changed forever.  The chapter will be closed.  It will go on to represent something new, and it-- that small symbol for my aunt that in my mind loomed so large, that in my mind was inextricably intertwined on one level or another with everything she was and everything we shared-- might cease to exist.  I think that will be death I mourn the most.