Fast Car

I felt a nearly overwhelming need to drive fast. Really fast. There wasn't a single car on the highway in either direction within sight. No one would see. No one would know. I wouldn't get caught. I'm settling into a kind of acceptance of the situation, a numbness really. I've driven fast before. Fast for me anyway. Enough to get a rush from it, but in a safer environment. On a track. I've done hot laps in the Miata on several road courses, just for fun. I did take one official SCCA driving course. Though highly competitive, I'm too cautious, too safe, not a risk taker to have been any good at racing.

Still, driving home from my infusion treatment with the top down and radio blaring I think I was seeking some kind of sensory input to push away the numbness, even the pain was better than this. Smells in the air, vibration of the road, thumping of the music trying to awaken my spirit, but adrenaline would only be an empty temporary fix and would demand repeat performances for any lasting effect. In reality, it's not what I need. I know this. I don't floor it.

Don't get me wrong, without risk there is no gain. Sometimes risks are necessary, but I am one to make a list of positives and negatives and assign them values and weigh them on a mental scale and even then to have a plan A, B or even C in case something goes horribly wrong.

The one time I didn't do this was with Tom. If I had, I would have lost out on the love of my life because the cards were stacked very much against it. People told me he was damaged. He was also essentially my boss and I risked and did alienate my department co-workers. I had never worked in a job before where I wasn't good friends with my fellow employees, but I understood it. Kept my distance. What if it didn't work out? I'd have to leave my job which I really liked. Objectively, dating Tom wasn't a rational decision, it wasn't a 'good' decision, but every fiber of my being knew it was right. A risk worth taking. I didn't believe in regrets and this time the risk paid off in more ways than I could have ever fathomed.

Even now, with him gone, if I had known our time together had this limit, I still would have done it. No regrets. This numbness will pass. It will pass.

-----------

This painting is called "Old Friends"

Though I wish we would have been able to grow old together, I'm glad Tom didn't have to face a failing body and memory. He occasionally expressed fears about getting older. I'm starting the understand them now as I age toward the mid 40s.