It’s Never Easy Coming Back From Vacation
— Frank Froman
Images of places visited, different people, food, culture ( I was in Maine, what do you expect?) and mores and folkways were still in my head when my 9 o’clock toddled in looking for some therapy.
My body was with him for the hour. At least I think it was. I seem to recall some moments of acknowledging “Ted’s” existence, and made a few notes on a yellow pad that confirmed that something must have transpired, though for the life of me, I don’t know what that was.
My head was still in Bar Harbor. I could look at Ted and see antennae coming out of his head, with claws for hands, and a snapping tail for legs. Should I treat him or eat him? He’d be good with butter, I thought.
As our time together moved on, he seemed to morph back into human form, slowly at first, then more quickly. I could note that he was in fact a human, a middle aged male, and had some sort of psychological problem.
About midway in our session, I recalled that I was indeed his psychologist, and had to do something or other to try to justify whatever it was that I was charging him.
The self talk started working at about 9:45 AM, with 10 minutes to go. I could sense a big finish, and started to build to it. And then he morphed into a lobster again and all was lost.
It was a very long day.
