Disassociation at the Museums

It was Sunday yesterday. I had slept through church. Darn! My youngest son is new to the choir and supposed to be there at 8:45. We made it there just on time for a meeting he had with the other teens in the church.

It was a beautiful Fall day: Blue skies, lots of sun and a bit nippy. I headed out toward downtown, walking past the old landmarks until houses gave way to businesses. I called my dad. We were playing a bit of phone tag at first but I finally chatted with him for a few minutes about the long line at the grocery store he was in. Walking through downtown now, I darted past the other people on the street, ignoring them for the most part. I called my good girlfriend to catch up with her. Weren't we supposed to get together today? Maybe next week. Life's been hectic.

The phone beeped. "I think I have a text," I commented. Ending our conversation, I noticed a text from my youngest: The meeting was over. We talked for a bit until we saw each other down the street headed toward each other. What to do? We went to the record store which sells used LP's tapes and CD's. He found a few pieces of sheet music to play on the piano. The winner was Mozart, a composer he hasn't played much of.

We got hungry so got some snacks at the downtown drugstore. Sat on a wall to eat them and decided to go to the art museum. There is always a $10 donation but we had very little money so we walked past the see-through box full of raggedly-laid green. Walking along, I felt my feet weren't on the ground. I was floating above it. As we looked at each painting and statue, the details were so vibrant. My son and I discussed in detail just how each work was put together. The museum was quite live and so I began to sing quietly, reveling in my voice being lifted literally up- a tune from an album sung by girl tenor Ruby Helder. The world around me was like those paintings: I could feel I was inside them but mostly I was in an outside world looking in.

After N had had his fill, we walked back toward the shops and turned down the road that the natural history museum lives. They were building a new home for it right next door - mirrored glass and wood. It won't open until 2018. Inside, it was a special day where various experts laid out displays on tables including opossum and skunk. Each was vibrantly soft or scratchy. I felt them from one side of the table to the other. Who else knew how a skunk feels? All of this strangeness only added to my surreal feeling- every hair meeting my hands and singing to me. People were everywhere which only heightened my feeling that they were in a different dimension on top of mine- a film playing out on a translucent form.

We finally walked back to the car as it was almost five o'clock. We made a stop to fill my tires and then went on to Panera to meet a friend to eat and chat. My medications are still messed up so I called an after-hours nurse to discuss this. She suggested I totally redo the box! I also texted my day to my friend S. He's such a warm listening ear and friend. I don't know of anyone else whom I can tell my troubles to that won't judge me or run away no matter what.