…lidia and the others
“Dad, what are we going to do today?”
Its Sunday, my Mother, Lidia, was buried Friday. Yesterday the day was spent with family. 
Today, I am torn by crosswinds.
Especially since the trees are whipping wildly against my balcony, swept by the tail of Hurricane Irene that has hit the U.S. east coast.
“The least possible, Noah, I’m exhausted.”
“Awwww…”
I would want to say that today I want to go wild, go out into the wind and rain and find a woman, as anonymous as possible, to exhaust my body with exultation rather than grief. Funerals do that to me.
“Is A… coming?”
Actually his babysitter is supposed to come this evening. I was hoping to play pool with a friend. A more reasonable way of distracting mind and body. But he cancelled.
So if I go out, I’ll go crazy.
“No…I don’t think so.”
“Awwww…its a long time since she came.”
The church bells are ringing. Is it noon, or a wedding or a funeral? Bells are bells, I could never tell whether they call for rejoicing or for grieving.
I feel bad for Noah. I want to rip myself apart with pleasure to deaden the pain. Perhaps he needs to do the same.
I look over.
He’s wearing his explorer’s lamp on the head and has dived into an enormous toy chest. Only his feet stick out. And there’s an eerie glow from inside the chest, courtesy of his lamp.
“Haha, found it, youhou.”
He pulls out a cannon, a castle, and a handful of chevaliers on horseback.
His is now a smile of exultation.
He needs nobody’s help for extreme pleasure.
A branch scrapes across the window.
Wake up, it says. Do something!
“Look, Dad, I like have a whole war going. Cool, huh?”
Irene, Lidia, and all the others who have swept me up with their beauty, their heart, their torments. Wind and love and rain and pain and the elemental emptiness within that can never be filled.
Live in the knowledge that each breath may be your last.
Irene kicks my door open. A gust of wind blows through the living room, knocking over Noah’s knights.
“Wooohooouuu, the gods are angry! So cool.”
Do something, the wind screams at me.
Visions of running out on the balcony to scream until the wind rips my lungs out.
Irene will be my only mistress today.
