Lots and lots of them, picking me up, buffeting me about and leaving me lying on the grass -- the aftershock of a testosterone-driven tornado.
(more) I loved the tornado.
But then you came along, and the destruction stopped. It was like I stepped through all that dust and debris, all the flying pick-up trucks and cows, and found myself near a quiet stream at the edge of a rainbow.
I was baptized by the pain, and given a second chance. There, in the sunlight, stood a new me. I don't know her all that well just yet. The way she speaks when she's around you, the honesty in her voice...it's like a foreign language. And when she holds your hand, she feels so safe - like she's standing on the inside of a prayer.
There were other man. A whole circus car full of them, and it still wasn't enough.
But you...there's just you now, and I watch your face when you look at me. It's like you're always seeing me for the first time. The way your lips curl into a gentle smile. This morning, when we were carved into my blankets, and you said, "Is this heaven?" I knew you meant it. To you, I am a quiet, certain grace that surrounds your body and envelops you in light and love. I saw half your face peeking from beneath a pillow, and you confessed how you watched me sleep.
"It was so beautiful," you whispered. "Like a secret only I know."
I always go through with it when I put too much milk in with the eggs. I still whisk it all together, mindful of the edges, and joyful at the bubbles that form and the swishing sound the wires make as they cut through the goo. If the lighting(more) is good I can recognize my blunder while the frothy liquid is still in the bowl. Usually I notice once I pour the mixture into the pan. A certain lack of sticking together is evident, and what are supposed to look like fluffy blossoms of healthful goodness are instead soggy, inedible globules. I have decided that the difference between these two outcomes is a miniscule amount. It is really a wonder that I generally enjoy eggs.
I had messed up the eggs and she was there next to me telling me I had messed up the eggs. I was going to just turn the oven off and throw the pan into the sink and walk away but I asked about Tom instead. I thought I wanted to know whether she wanted to fuck him or not. I didn’t want to know that. I grabbed a smoke and went out onto the porch and thought never seeing her again would be perfect. She had turned the oven off and trailed me quietly. When I turned and sat, and lit my cigarette, she was only a few feet away from me, looking down with eyes that cried without shedding tears. It was a gusty day and the local weather team said there would be storms later in the day. A breeze came around the corner of the house onto the porch and blew her dark hair across her face and over her left shoulder. Can I make you pancakes?
Another man would ask for food, a burger with avocado, steak, pizza -- I don't know -- something SOMETHING. But this. I don't know.
Another man would ask for pictures of his family, his kids. Everyone smiling. Rubbing at the memories like there used to be a sca(more)b but now there is just a scar white and going to purple at the edges. Knotted. Twisted.
Another man would sneak us a message, information about how many men are on the West side and the East and whether or not they are armed, a code, an S.O.S., a plea.
Another man would ask for a priest.
But this list:
A blanket for the cold (OK, that one makes sense)
A pencil with no tip
Paper clips, one pack
A bouquet of daisies
A DVD of the fourth season of Sesame Street
Toe nail clippers
Index cards, 4x6
Are you joking? Have you lost it? Did your captors put you up to this? You get a chance like this once, maybe once, if the hostage-takers are exceptionally bad or exceptionally confident. You'll likely be dead by morning -- we aren't coming in. No negotiations, you know.
After everything we've been through together, you have to know you can tell me anything!
Besides, I love hearing you talk about A, you sound like the Lizzie I used to know before we both got married. I know we've always been sporadic in our letter-writing bu(more)t we need to start writing more, the way we did when you went away to college.
You know I'd never judge you, you know too much about me to risk pissing you off! (I'm fully aware that was lame, humor me and at least chuckle a little.)
I'm really happy for you. You've been juggling so much for so long you need to find the happy anywhere you can.
Life is way too short, we all have to do whatever the hell it is we have to do, you know?
There's so much suck-age going on in the day-to-day, if you can grab a few minutes of happy here and there, grab onto it. You may never get that chance again.
Ok, lecture over. Now that I got that out of the way, on to the good stuff!
You were right about everything.
Don't ever be embarrassed about anything that goes on between you and A.
I finally get the addiction.
When you talked about the way he drags all your 'secret desires' out of you it was like you were listening to my phone call with J.
And yes you were right, the long-distance thing is really hard to deal with sometimes, but when I think of the alternative?
No, I'd rather enjoy the small pockets of bliss with J than not at all. It is what it is.
So much more to tell you! I also need some advice so you'll be hearing from me very soon!