Part 3 (My affair with the recliner)

So part 3 was going to be a big pity party about how I don’t get to dress like I don’t own a mirror anymore because people here will judge me. Then I remembered who is writing this thing, and who is reading it for that matter. I won’t be whining like a vain little princess today. You’re welcome.

Now that that’s cleared up let’s get to the other third thing I realized I miss. It happened while I was sitting there melting into the recliner. I vaguely remembered this world where I could go weeks on end without even seeing a recliner. Did I dream that? I wondered. No. In fact, in that world I could also go days at a time without driving my car. I walked everywhere. Whatever happened to those days?

I moved home. Don’t get me wrong, East Texas has its charm. It is lush and green (so many shades of green) with rolling hills that you can’t see for all the towering pines and oaks. You can’t walk anywhere though. You really wouldn’t want to for fear of dying of heat stroke between the front door and the mail box.  But even if it wasn’t so stiflingly hot, I still wouldn’t be able to walk to the grocery store or a coffee shop. It’s a 15 minute drive to the nearest town (and 30 to the nearest town that has anything in it worth driving to). I have tried doing laps around our porch but that gets monotonous after about 5 minutes, even if you walk backwards for parts. I joined a gym for the air conditioning where I can burn off at least a little energy while reading or listening to NPR (no, I’m not your grandmother, it’s fine). Mostly though, I have just entered into this really needy relationship with the recliner. I use him for comfort and to forget the world I left behind, and he just lets it happen because let’s face it, what is a recliner without someone to sit in it?

I really miss those days of thinking: What a slow day, I think I want a cup of coffee. I’ll just throw on some shoes and grab my purse and walk into town. It was perfect. I could kill some time, get my legs moving, read a few good pages, and soak up some fresh air and vitamin D. Once I got to town who knows what could happen. I might run into someone I know and we could head off on an adventure or just grab a beer or a cup of coffee (neither of which I would appreciate as much as I do now). I might stop in Maria’s and find a good book. I might get to town, realize I don’t have my wallet and turn around and walk home. Whatever. It didn’t matter. Home wasn’t that far and I could read on the way.

I guess there isn’t much more to say. I miss how close everything was, how close everyone was. But now that I'm done dwelling on the things that are gone, I think I’ll go climb back into the recliner and dream about this new life I’m about to be entering. It’s exciting and scary, and this time at home really is important.