Frida’s Theme Music

It’s supposed to be the first day of summer in Ashlandia: Frida, June 20, 2025. But it’s fifty and has a certain autumn flavor to the air. Sun and blue sky have surrendered to charcoal clouds. Rain veils aren’t there but an atmosphere of impending rain lurks. Today’s high will only be 61.

The cat is not happy. Prancing out for sunshine, he stops and looks around. “Right,” I say. “Where’s the sun?” The cat doesn’t say anything. He’s not much for conversing. “Want to come back in?” I ask. The cat’s gaze at me is rich with skepticism and disappointment. “I can’t control the sun,” I say. “I’m going back in.” I go in and close the door. A few minutes later, I check on the cat. He’s sulking. I open the door. He hurries in. “I agree,” I say. He meows for food and is given a third breakfast to make up for the sunless suffering he endured.

My mouth is healing. This is Post Op Day 2. Teeth are missing from the upper right and left sides. I’m not allowed hot stuff yet. I make oat oatmeal and let it cool, doing the same with my black coffee. I inhale the coffee’s aroma, comforting myself that I can soon gulp down a tepid splash. I make my warm water with salt and swish, rinse, and spit, as required, marking it off my mental checklist, along with two Ibuprofen and my Amoxicillin. I have pain killers but I don’t use them. Just give me some coffee, damn it.

My wife is leaving for the gym. “Do you want me to pick you up anything?” she asks.

“Sunshine,” I sniff.

“I mean food.”

“No.”

I sit and eat my chilled oatmeal and smell my coffee.

I check my phone for texts. Nothing from Dad’s side in Texas nor Mom’s side in Pittsburgh, PA. Guess both of their issues are temporarily abated.

Today’s music is “How Does It Feel” by London Grammar. The Neurons turned it loose in the morning mental music stream after my wife asked how my mouth felt. “Fine,” I answer, feeling grumbly.

The coffee is cool enough to drink. The sky has gotten darker. It’s almost time for my chlorhexidine gluconate oral rinse. I raise my cup and look out the window. “To summer.”