Denial.

Tomorrow, Saturday, October 27, at 11:40 a.m. a close friend, Megan, will, barring a freak snow storm (please, please, please!) depart from Denver International Airport for Nashville, TN where she will return home, unpack her belongings and settle back into life in the historic town of Franklin. She will be, even with a cell phone, e-mail, instant messenger and cheap flights, far, far away.

To date, except for a few damn bursts (need more fingers! Damn bursts!), I have done quite well at denying the reality of this event. My mind has been so plogged (v. to struggle to work against a plug or obtrusion like a cog machine struggling against misplaced Play-Doh) that I have raged at Michael for reasons not related to my true mental ailment, lost the use of much English language and gained a propensity to make up words (deny reality and the reality of words fades) and been quite unable to plan anything for about the last week, including a good bye reception for Megan that was amazingly whipped together in an hour and a half from store to set up (including a stop at daycare to pick up two worn out kids and included a well executed curtsy).

I know I am on the verge of climbing a cold, leafless tree in the middle of a golden plain, but until then, I will deny the event and enjoy the last hours with her (party at my house!). Soon, I will not only recognize my denial but let it subside and remember fondly the prayers that started it all, the pits and apexes, the new found places in my heart . . . fade into denial.

Perhaps denial is not all bad, it is after all "an unconscious defense mechanism used to reduce anxiety by denying thoughts, feelings, or facts that are consciously intolerable." (American Heritage Dictionary) And this is, after all, consciously intolerable.