My Private Wobegon

stories from home

The furnace churns to a stop, the vents groan in relief as the last of the hot air is expelled from them and the stillness of the cold winter night once again descends upon the house. Next to me, my wife sleeps soundly, her breathing rhythmic, a comforting island of refuge in the harsh reality that had impeded my own efforts so far to sleep. I lay awake, the pain I had jokingly nicknamed "the Companion" slowly dissipating. Knowing what might need to be done while dreading the consequences of such an unnatural act has not helped my efforts toward somnolence, either.

Ever so slowly, I rise from the cozy warmness of the bed into the stark chilliness of the room, careful not to disturb the person I have shared so many laughs, tears, triumphs and tragedies with over the years. Cautious as I am, she still turns once and puts one of her arms on the pillow where my head had rested only a few moments before. I hold my breath for a second but thankfully she resumes her sleep. I tip-toe to her side of the bed and for a brief moment look down at her, so peaceful, so child-like in her sleep, so utterly vulnerable. I reach out to put my hand on her soft neck but instead take a step backward as she stirs again in her sleep. Thinking about the troubles facing me, I desparately wish we could return to a simpler time but know such is merely the gossamer fabric of dreams. Then my resolve beckons and promise myself I won't dwell on that abhorrent solution looming as a viable alternative.

Our old house best reveals its age on cold winter nights such as this, when drafts are attracted to bare feet like steel to a magnet. In anticipation of this problem I pull on my woolen sox but cradle the rest of my clothes in my arms as I slowly exit the bedroom, partly closing the door behind me. I only get as far as the bathroom when my Companion comes to visit once again, this time with a vengeance; the pain is unbelievably intense. Dropping the clothes from my arms I try to stifle a cry of pain before it leaves my mouth because I don't want to awaken my wife. The method I had used previously, one way to lessen the intensity of the Companion's frequent visits and to hold at bay that other dreaded alternative, was to simply walk around. Of course, in the wee hours of the morning in the dead of winter, there really aren't too many places to walk, so it's down the hall, through the kitchen to the back door, then all the way to the other end of the house.

Over and over, I walk and walk, with the Companion's throbbing presence rising to a painful crescendo I had never yet experienced. Still, I walk, waiting for blessed relief that to date eventually came after a while. Feeling as if my Companion is alternately squeezing and then twisting my insides into a ball, I actually break out in a cold sweat as I now try to put one foot in front of the other, no longer certain I could walk any further. Forced to stop, I'm thankful there is a doorway to lean against. As I quietly gasp for air, my Companion finally starts its denouement, and I sink to the floor, resting, waiting to see if I can outlast this latest unwelcomed visit. But first, I must see if this bout with my Companion had awakened my wife, forcing a change in my plans.

Gathering some residue of strength I didn't even know I possessed, I rise unsteadily to my feet, walk back to the bedroom, push open the partly closed door and look in. She's gone, the disarrayed bed covers providing mute testimony to her departure. Defeated, I slump up against the wall, slowly lowering myself to the floor and sit with my head in my hands. I wasn't sure if I had dozed off or not, but minutes later I hear soft footsteps approaching from down the hall. Something reaches out to touch me gently on the shoulder and I look up. In one hand she holds two small pills, in the other a cup of water. "Take these," my loving wife, my Angel of Mercy says in her soft voice, "they'll make you feel better." Beaten by my Companion, saved by my wife yet again, I take the pills in my hand, look at them in disgust, throw them into the back of my mouth and swallow them with a gulp of water.

As I slowly get to my feet my wife takes my arm, guides me back into our bedroom and settles me down. In a mere two or three minutes the effects of the pills start to kick in and I am transported once again to an alternate universe where pain does not exist, seasons never change and where I float around aimlessly as an ethereal being rather than exist purposefully as a man made of flesh and bones. Removed from reality, from troubles, from my wife, nothing matters any more, at least not for the next hour or two.

I hated those pills. I loved those pills. It was so damn unnatural.