All things be relative, yes?
For example, until this afternoon, I didn’t know how big a kitchen I have in this apartment. “Where do you keep the stove,” I asked. “I cook out in the garage,” the woman answered. Said garage is at the back of the yard. I visualized a winter scene that involved traipsing through the rain to cook my supper, and traipsing back again to eat it in the relative warmth, on the corner of the table stuck in next to the fridge in the living room.
The search continues.
The man admits he’s suicidal. In his estimation, there isn’t a single therapist with the necessary skills/brain power/chops to understand or recommend anything he doesn’t know already. Since my job relates to the safety and well-being of his son, I took in what he had to say, and did my best to keep the father steered on acceptable measures for his son’s welfare. The problem: whatever gains made on one day often get wiped out on the next. What I can do, I do, what I can’t, I let slide.
Same with the other humdinger of the day or: how to give new meaning to the word “uncertainty”. While the law provides the family a two-month delay for the eviction from the apartment, at this point in the process, the law offers no such guarantees concerning their eviction from the country. Again, we do what we can.
On days like this one, writing proceeds in the intervals, and I give grateful thanks for the tremendous cooking at l’ibère.