Day 8: Listening to the Radio

The radio is on all the time these days.  Though, I'm not sure if you still call it the radio when it's your iPhone streaming the radio and hooked up to a speaker system.  Yes, that's still radio, but not your parent's radio.  The "radio" plays in the morning, at its lowest level, while I pour the hot water over my pre-ground and measured drip coffee.  One of two times I'm alone during the day, I still don't want to be completely alone.  Carl Castle's voice isn't so low that lulls me back to sleep; there's something just animated enough about it to help my brain, eyes and body begin to adjust to the day. 

My coffee is never right, though.  I haven't seemed to perfect it after all these days of doing it myself.  When Peter makes it, it's better.  He advises that I stop mid-pour and stir the grounds, but I only remember half the time.  I don't know what I'm doing the other half that makes me forget, but I always regret it later when two minutes into my hot cup it's bitter.  Or worse, when it's thin and weak.  I've attempted to switch to coconut and almond milk in my coffee to align with the new health regimen I'm on, but that, too, always seems to disappoint me.  It's just not the way to start the day, disappointed in your coffee.

When I make dinner at night, or when I'm with the baby, I turn the radio back on.  Another adult voice reassures me that, indeed, there's a conversation going on in the world out there. 

The radio is actually because I miss him.  Or another way to say it is:  the radio is as good as it gets.  If I couldn't stream something, some fully frontal lobed human into my life, I might actually be forced to notice that I am completely alone.  Despite the clang and pounding and weight of my children, whom I love, I can not solve the physical and mental craving that I have for him.  I can not solve that I miss him. Or another way to say it is:  the radio has saved my life.