lines of demarcation
A line of demarcation is where something ends and another thing begins. Literally or figuratively I suppose. The line of demarcation mostly referred to at my house is the spot where my butt cheek turns into my thigh - or where my butt ends and my thigh begins. Bruce has an affinity to this spot and even though I am half asleep, I feel his hand settle on it. He sighs and mumbles, "Ah the line of demarcation is still there". I don't know if he thinks it might go away sometime or maybe my ass will be have fallen over my thigh and there will be no line anymore. Or, my thigh could grow over my ass. So far, despite my not running for 10 weeks (yup I am counting them) this has not happened - thanks to an exercise bike and some other yoga type stretches and maybe to not having an appetite.
There are other lines that have nothing to do with asses and thighs. Like the line you cross just when you have one more drink and you know you will be sick in the morning. Or... when you say something that you instantly know is wrong....like "When's your baby due?" to someone who ends up not being pregnant. Or...you say something to people younger than you (including your kids), and you see an exchange of looks and you know you said something parental. Yup, you have crossed the line again.
There's the line in a marathon that once you cross it, you know you can make the rest of the way (yeah the finish line is the obvious right answer but that isn't what I mean). For me, it is usually around mile 25.2. Or when you quit feeling nauseated and light headed. Sometimes you cross the line even before you start because you feel that good.
There's a few things where there is no line - no turning back. Like having a baby. I remember in nursing school I was in the delivery room when a mom was about to deliver a breech baby. The baby was a boy, and his little swollen boy parts were presenting first, oddly making this woman suddenly appear to have grown bruised testicles and a little penis. "I don't want to go through with this", she yelled, back in the days before there were epidurals. Too late, lady, you've crossed the line a long time ago.
There's lines, that if you cross, you might be sorry later. Or you are happy because you realize that not crossing it would have sent your life in a different direction. I have lots of those lines and most of them I am glad I crossed. Once, in nursing school, I was ready to quit - I had enough of care plans, pregnant woman and crying old ladies in nursing homes. But, I decided that I would go talk to one of my advisers ( a great nursing instructor who was many years later hacked to death by her crazed demented husband - he definitely crossed some line). Anyway, I talked to her for a while, and when I got back to the dorm room, my sister and Siggie had been up to see me and bought me a birthday cake. They couldn't stay, but if they had been there I would have left school and gone home with them. But as it turned out, like my mom always said it would "It was better in the morning" and I went on to graduate.
A big important line I crossed was moving to Utah after never having been west of Wisconsin. I don't regret it at all. The line leading to Utah began one day, in my Sophomore year in college (yeah a lot of college memories). I was about to go home for the weekend, like I had done most every weekend, to see a boyfriend. I got out to the car of the guy I was going to ride home with. As the car started moving, I suddenly said "Stop the car". I got out, and just said, "I'm not going home". I went back to my dorm room and joined my roommates who were drinking Schlitz Malt Liquor. They cheered. They hated that boyfriend because I deserved better. Later he called me and demanded I come home. Then he threatened to kill himself. Of course he didn't. He tried being mean, saying things like "no one else will ever want you but me". When that didn't work, he tried being nice. Said he was planning on buying me a ring at Christmas. Send me cards and letters - he had never done that before. When I moved to Utah he told me he hoped I broke my leg skiing. Well his wish came true 35 years later, even though I wasn't skiing when I broke it.
For some reason, this memory of crossing the line and not going home is my favorite. I finally stood up for myself and realized I was worth more. I don't really remember any lines I crossed that I deeply regret to this day.
Life probably has many more lines to cross, many more lines of demarcation that separate one thing from another and one stage of life from another. And one day, the line of demarcation on my once perfect ass will be obliterated too. Until then, I will go to sleep knowing that Bruce will keep tabs on it and let me know when it is gone.
A big important line I crossed was moving to Utah after never having been west of Wisconsin. I don't regret it at all. The line leading to Utah began one day, in my Sophomore year in college (yeah a lot of college memories). I was about to go home for the weekend, like I had done most every weekend, to see a boyfriend. I got out to the car of the guy I was going to ride home with. As the car started moving, I suddenly said "Stop the car". I got out, and just said, "I'm not going home". I went back to my dorm room and joined my roommates who were drinking Schlitz Malt Liquor. They cheered. They hated that boyfriend because I deserved better. Later he called me and demanded I come home. Then he threatened to kill himself. Of course he didn't. He tried being mean, saying things like "no one else will ever want you but me". When that didn't work, he tried being nice. Said he was planning on buying me a ring at Christmas. Send me cards and letters - he had never done that before. When I moved to Utah he told me he hoped I broke my leg skiing. Well his wish came true 35 years later, even though I wasn't skiing when I broke it.
For some reason, this memory of crossing the line and not going home is my favorite. I finally stood up for myself and realized I was worth more. I don't really remember any lines I crossed that I deeply regret to this day.
Life probably has many more lines to cross, many more lines of demarcation that separate one thing from another and one stage of life from another. And one day, the line of demarcation on my once perfect ass will be obliterated too. Until then, I will go to sleep knowing that Bruce will keep tabs on it and let me know when it is gone.
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