"He himself could not think of a life away from his house and garden, which perhaps he continued to see in his own way, perhaps even saw as whole and perfect, the way we fail to see the tarnishing that has gradually come to flats or houses where we have lived a long time."
-V.S. Naipaul
The Enigma of Arrival

Monday
I find it funny that this might be the last book I read. I read the words, so youthful and unaware of the weakness of old age. It is not that our perception changes, I can still see the cracks in my life: bitterness, regret, lost faith. Mr. Naipaul, it is that I no longer have the strength or will to mend them.

It has been so long that I have taken the same medicine. The effects are dormant. Dr. Weiss told me to keep taking them, as if hope was the secret ingredient that I've been missing. As if hope will mix with the chemicals to create some potent elixir of health.

If not for my daughter I might have given up already. I asked her to go away today because I had no more strength left to argue. She has a life that needs to be lived. She came late last night, brought me some soup from the Chinese restaurant we used to go to so much. Mother and daughter, together on 805 north Paulina. That was a simple place, functional. Little porcelain cat shaped money banks, their paws waving to the people on the street. I remember we were there when I told her that I was leaving her father. I can hear the kitchen so clearly, the clanging pots, the clumps of food hitting oil, and the soft drone of the ventilator fan. I remember finishing a bite of egg drop soup when I turned to her to tell her the news.

"Do yer know if we hat ta pay the parking meters after five?" yelled a southern man who had just burst in the door. That ruined the moment. She found out later that night when Harry told her, and I will never forgive him for that.

But she came today to visit me. I told her that she should drive back home and that I didn't want to argue. I told her that there was no point to stay with me, that I was feeling fine. I reminded her that she too had a life to live. If she did not go back she should not feel like she was failing me as a daughter, she would only be failing the chance to have other opportunities for herself. I should not like to see that.

We began to argue at that point. We argued about what is important in a persons' life. How can you convince someone that already has their mind made up? Were we wasting time? I think so. I told her that I would be fine until Friday if she felt the need to come again. Then I told her that I was tired and too weak to argue. She left shortly after that.

Now if only I can make it till Friday.