Not Enough

Often times Thank You is not enough. Sometimes I want an arm and a leg as an expression of gratitude.

Sometimes I want to attack a punching bag like a championship boxer, or put my fist through a wall.

Sometimes it would be nice if someone cleaned my apartment or at least cleaned out the litter box.

There seem not to be enough hours in a day to sleep, let alone write new original fiction, screenplays, essays, or devote to all the tasks that populate my “to do” list.

There’s always a wife, husband, mother, or lover who wants more than their partner can or willing to give. Those who want to maintain our sanity save a space inside to retreat, or a comfortable corner chair or a table in the back of the local coffee shop underneath an imagined cloak of invisibility.

The witch in Sinbad & The Eye of the Tiger didn’t have enough potion to reverse the effects of the spell to make her fully human, leaving her with an eagle talon. As she lay in her son’s arms, she said, “Not enough! Not enough!”

I understand how she felt at the moment. There are times when I give it my all, when I know success (or victory) is within sight, and the bottom falls out of my world. Instead of crying in my yet to be born son or daughter’s arms in operatic fashion, I soak in a hot Epsom salt and wintergreen alcohol bath (one of Granny’s cure for physical ailments). Sometimes it helps to busy myself with household chores, like scrubbing the algae from the aquarium.

I try to remember as my body temperature rises in those “moments” that I’m experiencing a temporary setback.

. . . to float back and forth between the branches of a live aquatic plant like the tri-color shark — that would be enough of an escape from the world. Until the next e-mail or phone call, or knock on the door.