The last few months of my dad's life, after he had been moved into a very nice senior living place where someone from the family visited almost every day, he settled into watching, over and over, the same old Universal Studio black and white horror films. King Kong. Frankenstein. The Bride of Frankenstein. The Mummy. Dracula. He had memorized these films long before I was even born, and they never ceased to delight him.
Quite recently, I became aware of a feeling, or maybe an insight, which allowed me to understand why he loved to disappear into these movies. I think I understand now what it will be to want to withdraw from the world, a world that I don't feel I quite belong to any more; a world that is no longer mine. I can foresee wanting to be quiet, to be surrounded by things that comfort me with their familiarity. Things that I understand. I can feel what it might be like to sort of shrug and let the world take care of itself. I can tell that in the future there could well be a time when I will want just to close up, much more slowly than a sea anemone, but gradually and steadily. I will want to be surrounded by what I know and am comfortable with.
I'm certainly not ready for that yet. I am always on the prowl for new experiences: new restaurants and foods, new music, new theater, new people, new places to explore. I still have plays to write. I still have friends I love, and my family, and my darling kitties and Sweet Hubby. I'm still willing to make the effort to travel, to have get togethers, to exercise, to write birthday and holiday cards, to dance my ass off, to do something new. But someday...
Oh well. I will let the world take care of itself. I guess whatever happens will happen naturally, so why fight it?
