School of Hard Knocks ...Part 1 ...Living in Limbo

People want a set of rules for living—why else would self-help books, life coaches and gurus be in such demand?

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not blaming anyone. It’s nobody’s fault we get into the habit of breathing and then carry on cause it’s all we know.

We keep figuring we can muddle through—but, of course, we can’t.

Then, one fateful day, it all comes crashing down.

We’re left sifting through wreckage—dazed survivors of some capricious storm.

So, I know life isn’t easy and living isn’t a science.

Life is an art, and the apprenticeship by which we learn is suffering.

“So, is Matt sending out his curriculum vitae?” Jay’s asking Margot.

I know she and Matt have been putting off marriage until Matt finishes his doctoral studies.

Margot shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “Actually, Matt wants to take a few more courses in Mathematical Biology.”

“Are you serious?” Jay sputters, “I thought he’d be lecturing this fall.”

We’re in the cafeteria eating lunch together as usual. But today, Jay’s crossing an invisible line, intruding into Margot’s private life.

I want to kick him in the shins—unfortunately, I’m at the long end of the table. Why can’t I be a super-hero like Plastic Man?

“He wants to take a teaching position,” Margot explains, “but figured if he didn’t take the courses now, he never would.”

“That’s great for him, but where does that leave you?”

I quickly intervene. “I really don’t think Matt and Margot’s plans are our concern, Jay.”

Margot flushes, “It’s okay Paul—I know Jay means well. Frankly, I’m disappointed too, but it can’t be helped.”

I give Jay a smoldering look but frankly, neither of us is buying what she’s selling.

Margot’s been living with Matt—helping put him through graduate school.

I know what you’re thinking, but that’s her—that’s what Margot’s like.

It’s all based on the understanding they’ll be married in the fall. Now, it looks like that isn’t going to happen either.

Jay throws up his hands, “I’m outa here—I’ll catch you guys later.”

We watch him thread his way through the Medical Building cafeteria and head back to the old Medical Wing.

Margot puts down her half-eaten sandwich, “Well, what do you think, Paul—do you agree with, Jay?”

“I think Jay’s got a big mouth.”

Her eyes crinkle into a smile. It doesn’t help she’s gorgeous—blue-black hair and violet eyes—a young Elizabeth Taylor.

Also, I’m in love with her—something else that doesn’t help.

“How long has it been?” I ask, knowing the answer only too well.

She shrugs. Maybe she doesn’t know, but I do.

Three years, four months and eleven days, I muse—the length of time they began living together—and the corresponding length of my stay in Limbo.

I know there’s no real place called Limbo—the Council of Utrecht didn’t get around to studying that topic. They put it in limbo—in the margin—to be considered later, but they never got back to the topic.

I doubt there’s any unbaptized babies there anyway—but I’m there—in the margin.

Marginalized and waiting.

So, I ask you who’s dumber—her or me? Yeah. The jury’s out on that one too.