After The Crab – An Awakening

Tuesday, June 04, 2024

[Disclaimer; Westside stories are true stories. Any resemblence to persons or events you may have encountered in fiction – it is not surprising.]

Preface:  Back In Casa Sababa

The actual beginning of this and all these stories took place almost 4 weeks ago, when I returned to Aguadilla after a month in Israel. My experience in Israel brought me to a depressing realization that things were really going wrong and I was useless to any effort to make things any better. I came home with ambitions of getting to work on my writing and reading. But after more than 24 hours travel, my first ambition was to take a shower, get something cold to drink, and get into bed.

A taxi left me at my doorway at about 2:30 AM. Everything was pretty dark, but I found my key and went into the house through the front door. I unloaded my bags in my little office in the back, and headed quickly to the bathroom (You’ll have to imagine why I added the word, “quickly”). It was there that I discovered the water was off. So much for my plans to take a shower.

The water was off. At 2:30 in the morning I did not expect it to be turned back on anytime soon. So, I got some buckets and a flashlight and went outside to where I have two 100-gallon barrels that catch rainwater from the roof. They were full. When I opened the bottom spigot of the first barrel, the whole faucet assembly came off the barrel, and water gushed out. I managed to wedge the assembly back into its opening. That stopped the water from gushing out, but I could not use that spigot.

I ended up filling buckets with rainwater from the other barrel. These would be for flushing the toilet, for washing hands, for washing dishes, and for taking a shower for the next few days until the water company turned the water back on. After working on the broken spigot and carrying water into the house, it was about 4:00 AM. I put an immersion heater in one of the buckets to heat the water for a shower. While it was heating I cranked up the WIFI and checked email on my laptop.

I was in no mind to deal with social media, but I had to read a couple news reports. Why did I have to do that? I don’t know. Force of habit, I guess.

To get to the end of this preface, let’s summarize the rest of that night. I did take a hot shower. A hot shower, like I had had in Israel. By the time I was in bed it was close to 6AM, and I could not sleep. Jetlag was only part of the story. For the next couple days I was more or less in a daze. Adjusting the eating schedules and sleeping schedules was more difficult than it had been in the past. And it was all compounded by emotions, for my feelings were pretty low – I mean really low.

And that’s the way things have felt ever since: really low, and really alone. Although, on the bright side, the water came back on before noon that same morning.

Preface 2:  Playa Sababa

After three days of mindless milling around the house, I went to the beach early in the morning. I found a slab of concrete under some trees and put my things on it, and went into the water. I must have gone in and out of the water four times that morning, almost as aimlessly as I had milled around the house. The sea has a cooling effect on the body, and a soothing effect on the mind.

I have gone back to the beach, to the cement slab, almost every morning since then. It has become my place to get some exercise, get some air, sun, and shade. And it has become the place where I can stop thinking.

Let’s mull that over a bit. For all the virtues of an active mind, a hyperactive mind can be paralyzing. With memories and thoughts and dreams constantly coming at you from all angles, it is almost impossible to focus on one thing and get it done. That little slice of beach became my place to abandon all torment, and commune with the air, the sea, the birds and crabs, the sun and shade, the scenery, and the serenity and tranquility. I call it “Playa Sababa.”

End Of Prefaces

Yesterday

Fast forward three weeks to yesterday.   For three weeks, I got very nearly nothing accomplished. This last weekend, there was an overcast much of the time and sporadic heavy rains. So I did not go to the beach for three days. Yesterday, I milled around the house but it was not exactly aimless. There were actually a thousand targets to aim at. So, as usual, I bounced from one task to another, never finishing anything, until about 5:00 in the afternoon.

There was one thing that caught my attention, though. A crab, a big blue crab had gotten into the garage. I heard it trying to open the screen door that separates the garage from a utility room next to my office. I went to the screen door, slammed it shut to scare the crab away. Then I opened the garage door, but the crab did not leave, so I closed it.

The same sequence of events – crab scratches on screen door, I slam the screen door and open garage door, and I close the garage door – repeated themselves two more times. The third time, I changed it up a bit. After I opened the garage door, I got in the car and backed it out of the garage onto the short driveway. Then I came back into the garage, grabbed a rake, and looked for the crab. It was in a corner behind the trash can.

I pulled away the trash can, and used the rake to guide the crab away from the corner, and into the middle of the garage. The crab tried to run toward the corner, but I used the rake like a goalie in a hockey game, and kept the crab where I could see it. Finally, when opportunity struck, with one broad swish of the rake, I sent that crab sliding all across the garage floor, down the short driveway, and under the car. Then I closed the garage door. What a ride for the crab, right?

After The Crab

At about 5:00 in the late afternoon, I grabbed a couple tote bags and walked to the grocery store, Agranel.

In all this time, since returning from Israel, I had not walked to Agranel even once. Before going to Israel, I would walk to Agranel and/or Walgreens four or five times a week. But now, . . I had to work on that while I was walking. “What kept me from doing this until now?” Nothing.

After buying a few things, I headed back home. I sat at a bus stop and ate a candy bar (It’s curious to see these bus stops scattered around Aguadilla. There are no busses). Do you want to know what was going through my head before I stopped at that bus stop? I was miserable, emotionally and cognitively. It was not just a feeling, it was a realization. I thought of telling my doctor, and then I thought, “Well, I sure do not want any more drugs. As for talking to a therapist? I did not want to do that, either.

I sat at the bus stop, eating a candy bar. While sitting there I concluded that somehow I would pull myself out of this mess. Like the many people I have read about who have overcome great difficulties to become highly successful human beings, I had a moment of determination to get my life back on track. Only this time, I would set smaller goals, short term goals to piece together to build a road to bigger dreams.

And you know what? As I sat at the bus stop, eating a candy bar, it dawned on me that it had not been a completely wasted day, after all. That morning I climbed up onto the roof, and fixed the solar panels. In the afternoon, I used a hoe and my hands to pull up some weeds in the back yard and to plow up half of the garden next to the neighbor’s fence. I may not have done even a fraction of all that needs to be done in the back yard. But it’s a start.

And, as I have told you, I walked to Agranel and back. And let’s not forget the sliding blue crab. And after the crab, I picked myself up and walked to Agranel for the first time since returning from Israel, and I was in the middle of walking back.

Amidst All The Crises An Old Friend Steers Me Straight

Even though I realized I was actually making progress, my mood was hardly lifted. The world was still going all wrong.   Hostages were still suffering in Gaza, while politicians were left to determine their fate. There was nothing I could do for them. There was nothing I could do for anyone. I had no money. I had no influence. I had no friends.

As I continued my walk home, I wondered about depression, in general. I wondered if I had sunk so far into a quicksand that there was no getting out. I also wondered if I kept my head down all sad-like while I walked, if the neighborhood dogs would leave me alone.

As I approached a corner, I caught a glimpse of a dog on the porch of the corner house. He stood up when he noticed me. I kept my head down and didn’t make eye contact. I walked on the sidewalk nearly to the end of the yard, and so far not a sound from the dog. Suddenly and surely he ran up to where I was, albeit on the other side of the fence, and nearly barked his head off. I kept my head down and did not acknowledge the dog. And the dog stopped barking.

After I rounded the corner, I was able to lift my head a little, to see where I was going. About halfway down the street I started to cross the road when suddenly I heard a dog bark behind me. I looked around and it was my friend, a little black dog with a terrier’s face. I turned around, and he came to me, and I rubbed his head and neck. The dog smiled as it stared into my eyes, as if to ask, “Where have you been?”

Good question.

Last night I routinely ate something for supper as I routinely watched something on TV, and then routinely went to bed.

This morning I went to Playa Sababa, did some swimming and sat down on the concrete slab. At Playa Sababa, where thinking stops if you let it stop, I did not feel sad. I felt at one with whatever I have become, only I was a bit more determined to make some changes.

The first change happened right there at Playa Sababa. I put my shoes on and crossed the street and went to the donut truck, and bought some donuts. This gave me a chance to say “Buen dia” to the donut man, and maybe see the start of a new routine. If I went to the donut truck frequently, maybe that would help cement my status as a regular fixture at this beach.

The second change happened when I got home. Even before I showered to wash off the sand, salt, and sweat, I sat down at this computer, and started typing away. I nearly wrote the whole preface in this post before I had to take a break for something.

The point is, I’m doing something. I’m writing something. I’m writing stories and I am going to post them. I’m going to take down all the previous posts on this website, and this will be the first post on West Side Stories.

You might give credit to the little black dog who smiled when he saw me. Indeed, the dog boosted my feelings. But the actual turning point was whisking the blue crab out of the garage and down the driveway. After the crab I made small decisions, one after another, to keep moving and keep writing. If I can stick with those decisions, perhaps I can take my mind off of myself and my problems and get something done here.

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