An Inconvenient Feeling

There was an uneasiness in the air that I couldn't describe, couldn't fight or shake loose, and couldn't deny. Mrs Mango and I had sat down hurriedly in the bistro before the show, our date night. Sure we only had forty minutes, but then again we had forty minutes. Parents can do amazing things with forty minutes. We had ordered from one of the outdoor restaurants and were waiting for the buzzer to buzz, a strange sensation when you've got a suit on. It's sort of like going to the theatre, and then going to Sizzler. Nothing could be done for it, though – we're nothing if not thrifty and not above admitting that we need to be. The feeling was there at that time but hadn't reached it's apex yet. Eventually, the loud buzzing and vibrations, sliding across the table by it's own energetic movements, indicated our meal was ready (Number 32, Number 32 – your Parmigiana is ready!) I went and got the meals.
What followed was ten minutes of eating that can only be described as manic. I don't like the thought of what might have happened had someone stepped between us and our meals, because god help them, there would be little left to tell about it. Within 8 minutes and 33 seconds precisely, we had both finished our meals and were sitting, trying desperately to make some sort of conversation with each other that seemed important or relevant. My leg had it's normal nervous shake but at record speed as we sat, and I couldn't stop it, nor could I stop the desire to get upon them both and start walking again. I don't know what it was, I couldn't understand it, I couldn't place my nervousness. But it was there. And really, after everything Mrs Mango and I have been through together, it shouldn't have been.

So I started to talk about that. I said to her, “I feel completely uneasy just sitting here like this. I don't know if it's because we've got the show to go to or what – we've got plenty of time, there's no real need to feel like this.” Mrs Mango understood what I meant. I said, “Maybe if we were having coffee after the show, and we didn't have anywhere to be, maybe I'd feel better. But I don't think so.” I wondered what had happened to us to make us feel this way. We are still quite young in the scheme of things, we still new how to have fun, didn't we? There was no reason to feel uneasy or rushed – we were early for the show and we didn't have a time schedule to be back home for because the kids were at their grandparents. So why?

In this little moment, I got a sudden understanding. I saw now why couples drift apart, and how easily it happens if you don't fight for it. It's not necessarily because you don't have feelings for each other or you don't want to spend time together, but because the day-to-day just gets in the way. I can tell you right now, there is some days when I can't remember actually looking at my wife; I mean literally stopping and looking at her, and her me, because there will be a thousand other ways we have to look. I think as a parent, your eyes begin to get this natural twitch about them, where they constantly move back and forth crazily. Especially having three kids, I think you need to be able to take in an entire scene, learning the locations and conditions of all the children at once. The human eye is not a very reliable thing at the best of times, it's been proven, so your brain tends to extract as much information it can from what's in the shallow depths of your actual vision and make up the rest. As a parent, you do this over a wide arc and very quickly, looking for what you need and then interpolating. This is great for a trip to the beach and we're very smart creatures for having adapted our eyes in this way, but it makes it a bit hard to concentrate on just one thing, or one person, sometimes. Aside from this, dinner time as a parent, you are generally on edge most of the time because at any time you could possibly be back on your feet and literally running for your life (or theirs). It's these things that we condition ourselves with to try and survive, to try and make it through the day-to-day. It is like being at war; you work hard, grab the rest while you can, reserve your energy as much as possible, and get ready; you don't what the hell is coming around the corner.

So what was coming around the corner in this bistro, on date night, when we were by ourselves and nothing willing us home? What did we need to be ready for, to be on edge for? There was no real reason, no reason at all that makes any sense, apart from the still-bloody memory of routine; the stagnant corpse of the day-to-day that we carried around with us, for no reason, but to make ourselves feel better; the duality of our undeniable routine that helps us, motivates us, and traps us. And everybody has a routine, regardless of what you say – we all find our lives defined by the routines we put ourselves in, in the end to our own demise - we die in routines as well. I think it is something that if you don't learn to shake you will always carry with you. And it can cause, and does in so many people's lives, so many problems; that break apart and destroy foundations that were as solid as stone and take the very things from you that you put them there to protect.
I suppose, though, that you can't have something taken from you that you chose not to fight for anyway - it's the real test of this crazy adventure - the strength to endure when even normality is fighting you.
I decided it wasn't going to happen to us, that we would fight and get past it, and was glad for the uneasy ravioli. Nothing is certain, everything is able to be fought; everything in life that survives, adapts. Even if that means a shot of tequila to shake loose the fun-eating zombie of banality, clutching at our feet as we walked. Whatever it takes to stop this leg from shaking, the nervous cross-room watch - whatever it takes to bring my focus back to the actual moment I'm in, the dinner I'm enjoying this night, and the woman, the one that I had dinner with every night and thought nothing of the easy conversation, who I once said hello to first when I came home, the one I loved and married, and begin this maniacal adventure with, the one I'm enjoying this dinner with right now.