On the Edge

March 2nd

11:30 am  The morning started when
MAMA came to help me to go to work.
I couldn't get a coat out of the closet.
Reaching out for a hanger, I would lose my balance and fall down.
MAMA helped me to slip an arm into one sleeve, and then the other.

"Which coat you are going to wear today?"
"Well, the yellow one."
The day starts like this.

At the office.
I keyed in the password and started up the Mac.
Mail, schedule, bookkeeping, banking software, I turned them on in that order.
Just as I always do
The desk work is going well.

There are many things I can't do.
To go to pick up printout.
To go to the fax machine.
To go to the copy machine.
To go to get letter paper and envelopes.

I can't go to the bathroom by myself.
I can't prepare a lunch by myself.

How many can't would be enough for me to leave.
How many is O.K. and how many is not O.K.?

Mari came to accompany me home.
Seeing her in the office reminded me of the time when we worked together in New York.

We are planning to go to New York to revisit our memory... well, it is tentatively-planned for.
We are already running into a wall.
The more we discuss, we find the wall thicker and higher.

What if I couldn't breathe because of the air pressure...
Emergency landing... it would cause so much trouble.
I need to get a doctor's permission
To arrange the stay in New York city
To obtain two Business class seats.

I am fine now, but there is no assurance that I would be fine in one month.
I am weaker than I was one month ago.  That's for sure.

Willingness alone is not enough to go, to work, to live.

It is easy if I don't go to New York
It is easy if I don't go to work
It is easy to chose the easy way.
But if I take the easy road, what would follow?
Regret or habit of resignation?
Wouldn't I lose hope?

How do you place the line of demarcation for limit.
I looked into the dictionary
Limit: the final utmost or furthest boundary

I used to say when I drank
I wanted to live on the edge.
It was true uttering a thought would breathe life into it.

KP and I went to a Korean Restaurant for dinner.
The name of the restaurant was Phoenix, Hermit, and Flower.
What a fantasy world it is.

Poem by Maria Franki

Edited and translated by J. Ujiie

©2011