CARP DIEM

 I dreamt last night that I was at a Mexican resort--Acapulco or Cancún--with my two oldest sons Carlos and Joaquin. I remember the water and the palms and walking to our rooms. We left our suitcases and departed for different destinations. I was with a group of men and women when I started wondering about my sons. I went back to the room and the suitcases were gone. I pulled out my cell, but I couldn't get clear reception. It was similar in its frustration to when someone is chasing you in a nightmare and you can't run. I was beginning to wake up when the last fading image was a policeman telling me that there were two fresh bodies at the morgue. Our dreams prepare us as much as possible for when the shit really hits the wall.

Claudia haunts my dreams on a regular basis. A week doesn't pass they she doesn't invade my sub-conscious. And she generally appears in the company of another man. Talk about twisting the knife until it's buried to the hilt. We didn't live together for seven years. Those soporific episodes were painful. Sometimes I would know her companion and sometimes I wouldn't, but it was her complete disregard for me that drove me to the edge. I would awake from those scenes and simmer about her possible reality. Ironically, she still persists in my dreams in similar circumstances and I'm filled with the same anger, but I awake and she is next to me. I have never had this experience with anyone else. No person affected me emotionally as much as she did and I assume these are the collateral effects of an intense relationship.

Dreams are a kaleidoscope of one's reality although they choose to reveal themselves in an amorphous pattern that oftentimes defies logic. In order to comprehend them, it's almost as impossible as picking through digested food and determining the different dishes of your previous meal. Occasionally, I am successful at deducing the source that precipitated the nightmare. In the nightmare involving my two sons, I read yesterday that the medical authorities are predicting that by the end of the years 3000 Americans will die each day from COVID-19. With more than 202,000 dead, we are averaging 1000 a day. The nightmare dissipates once I turn on the lights or the first rays of the sun start poking through the windows. After dealing with Claudia's initial shock, the impact diminishes although in her case there is a lingering haze that hovers in the thin air.

But the nightmares and Claudia eventually fade because they are only the fictitious figments of my creative mind. COVID doesn't because COVID is real. It peaked about six weeks ago in Brownsville. I haven't heard of a death or a sickness that affects me personally with the exception of Estanislao Contreras informing me that his cousin in Monterrey--a four-hour drive from Brownsville-had passed. If that is the extent of the illness' gravity, I can live with its preying presence because the odds are 99 to 1 that it's not going to affect me. But I know it can strike at any moment. Cases are climbing in 21 states, including Texas. I have cautiously expanded by social contacts, which isn't a wise course of action. There is the added complication of the multiplying factor as Claudia and Michael expand their contacts and my stepchildren Karina and Darío have been visiting us more frequently from San Antonio.

It is not uncommon for me to have headaches, coughs and sore throats. Maybe because of the 3000 death scare, I was feeling particularly vulnerable, but I rose at three--Michael was still on his phone with his first distant-learning class scheduled at nine--and took a swing of cough syrup, washed back two Excedrin with a glass of orange juice and sucked on a cough drop. Except for the lassitude that I feel in the morning, which precludes any exercising since I feel stronger and more energetic in the afternoon, I am predicting that I am not going to die today. And we have a special treat awaiting us denizens of South Texas. The first substantial norther of the year rolls through in the early afternoon and temperatures will drop from the highs and lows of 90 and 75 to 80 and 60. It won't be long before the snowbirds arrive since our winters are eternal springs. It will be nice walking in the crisp, dry air again. I can say I suffered this summer as I hibernated in air-conditioning. My days of hot weather have permanently ended although the damage the sun inflicted on my skin is another worry that I have added to my long list of preoccupations. 

But I am off to a good start this Monday morning. I am finishing this first piece and it's not even nine. I'm listening to Debussy and he has filled my mind with Impressionistic scenes from Paris and the French countryside. I'm confident it will be a productive writing day, but before I return to the computer, I'm preparing coffee to accompany my bacon-and-egg breakfast. I'll return to the writing and accompanying music with occasional jaunts outside to greet the norther's arrival. I'm feeling my strength, so I'll hit the weights while I listen to the French language tapes. In the late afternoon, after I have finished another session of writing, I'll play the guitar, read and take a nap. There will be lunch and dinner some time during the day, but I'm not on a strict schedule. There is an excellent Monday night football game that I'll watch with Michael. I'll test Claudia's commitment to our relationship by requesting that she bring me a glass of wine with a plate of salami, cheese and crackers. I don't want to spoil her.

I am into the fourth month of my fourth year of retirement. My economic situation is solid and Coronavirus hasn't ambushed me. Many retirees die after a year or two of leaving work because the boredom and lack of purpose kill them, but I'm booked solid. There are two contests that are personal challenges: How long will I live and how many years will I survive after retirement? In the latter case I hope to collect my money's worth. This is the life I live as a gentleman of leisure. It isn't glamorous--there are still moments and there are always fantasies--but I'm content. Although I'm a Nervous Nellie with all these viruses intent on killing me--and let's not forget cancer, strokes and heart attacks--there are moments when I've never known a greater tranquility. I have no complaints. I have had a good life.