The Wednesday Meeting, Part Three: Dinner with Cleo

The next Wednesday, I was riding the Link home from another day at the Parks Service. Most of the day had been spent dealing with one local park and their community outcry over an abundance of geese poop. Sometimes my job was just public relations — keeping the public aware of the natural world and our delusions of power over it.

I was hoping to get some exercise now that the spring weather was here. Then my thoughts turned to dinner. What was in the freezer? Macaroni and cheese. A freezer-burned Tupperware of Chicken Parmigiana. Vegetarian rice bowls. I needed to make another trip to the market.

Before my stop, I saw the email from Jackie. Tonight’s meeting was cancelled. I felt a sense of disappointment, mixed with a hint of relief. It’s hard to muster enthusiasm to talk about grief. Or, in my case, to consider talking about grief, while listening to the rest of the circle talk about…or around…loss. Jackie mentioned a family emergency. I wondered if it was her sister again. Jackie’s younger sister was in and out of rehab.

As I walked home, I called Cleo. She had Charlie that night. I told her I was free and asked if she wanted Thai or Indian. Our schedule was consistent. She dropped Charlie with me in the mornings Thursday and Friday, and I brought him to preschool, where he would sometimes cling to my leg before I hefted him in the door. I picked him up and had him Thursday and Friday nights. We spent Saturdays all together. We took turns on Sundays. One week, one of us…