Masquerade

   I rolled out of bed the way the doctors taught me years ago, in such a way as not to strain my back.  Its early...0555hrs.  My husband had to leave before normal.  He had a doctor's appointment and he didn't want to hit heavy traffic heading North .  I felt anxious, no patience to go through the snooze alarm dance.  I got up, got dressed.  Mornings are always painful, but less so with the sleep number bed.  I can't imagine going back to the old one.  Its strange, but the first question I ask when going on a trip is always, "how are the beds?"  Still, I put on my workout clothes slowly.  I don't want to move wrong or pull anything that would disrupt my day.  I sit down to put on my socks.  Its just easier.  Into the bathroom for some personal hygiene.  Brush my teeth.  Leaning across the sink hurts, so I try to brush standing straight.  Sometimes it gets messy.  I am, after all, still half asleep.  I wonder if we should install a bar near the potty.  My knees make even that difficult.  Ugh.  When did I ever get this broken?  Why can't women stand to pee?  I go in, feed the fish, take all the laundry down.  Its too early to wake our youngest for school.  For a minute or two, I just stand there watching him sleep.  He's bigger than me now.  I just put another batch of old clothes in a bag for donation.   

The cat looks up at me from the stair, "Come on, Momma. We can do this."  She has a bad foot.  She understands the agony of going down the stairs in the morning.  It helps that we suffer through it together.  

  I turn on the coffeemaker, take my vitamins, and drink a glass of water.  The dishwasher needs to be emptied...the trash is full... I shake my head at the thought of it, but I do what has to be done.  The cat is staring up at me, "well?..."  I feed the cat.  

  Because I got up early, I had to go up and down the stairs a second time.  It was time for the five minute warning.  My mom did the same for me, my husband's mom with him.  I don't know.  Maybe its time for our youngest to start using that alarm clock in his room.  But then that would be one less thing he needs me for.  I'll admit it.  Sometimes, that need is what gets me up in the morning.  Today, he needs me to go to the party store and pick up a mask for his class party tonight.  He told me at 2100hrs (9 o'clock) last night that this dance is a masquerade party.  

  I'm glad the mask he'll wear will be for fun.  I often feel like I am wearing a mask, hiding my pain from the rest of the world.  Most mornings, I want desperately to stay in bed, and dream that I am running down Ardiennes, down Laundry Ridge, past the Helicopter fields and motor pools.  Around me, there is an endless sea of highly motivated individuals, running along, singing cadence, ready for any mission that may come.  

  Sometimes I dream there is no pain, no injury, and no anxiety.  In my dreams, I can run.  I can run like the wind.  So maybe, my mask is that of a skilled athlete.  My mask helps me be something more than just an old soldier with disabilities and issues.    

  With my mask, I am able to walk for days.  I work out harder than most men I know.  I am a warrior, an amazon goddess (yes, my mask even makes me taller).  I am brave and strong and capable of anything.    Maybe someday, I won't need that mask anymore.  Maybe someday, I will take off that mask and find that I don't have to dream of running because walking has given me so much more than I ever had before.  

  Then, I'll just have those occasional nightmares to deal with.  No worries.  In those nightmares, I can wear my special scary mask.