night to dawn then night again

A fuzzy head from too little sleep is not something you want on a crazy busy weekend. And of course, there is this rule that the more tired you are, the harder it is to sleep. It doesn't help that I am to drive Ed to the airport at 3 in the morning.

In the car, both of us are quiet. And here I can't say that it's tiredness that's causing us to fall into a tunnel of silence.  I dont think either of us wants to add to all that's been said. I for one dont want to put significance into any one thought. I want the entirety to sink in. But I worry: he may not get it after all, may not understand, may not want to work toward a solution. Ed can stand still in his tracks if the alternatives aren't to his liking. What then? I can't think about that. I have a move coming up. 

It storms in the dawn hours of the day. So his flight out is delayed and he misses his connection in Chicago. I suspected this might happen. He booked this flight because it was cheap. A risk. And yet he doesn't pay the price for it: they put him on an even better, more direct flight. To Bangor Maine. (He'll be sailing down the coast. A crew of four men.) For me, the day is full of such metaphors and analogues. We took a risk coupling up 20 years ago. And it turned out even better than what we thought it would.  But inevitably, a key difference caught up with us and now we're struggling to make it go away. 

After some pretend-sleeping, I feed the animals...

It's going to be a hot one today. I eat breakfast outside, with my lists at my side. No Ed, just lists of what to take, what to pack, where to start, what to leave behind. 

And then I take a long break from all the move related stuff. I bike over to the park to meet up with my good Madison friend for a lengthy walk all the way to the town of McFarland. My friend and I connected just a little over twenty years ago -- at a time when my marriage was ending. She met Ed then and so I need not explain him to her. I'm grateful for that. We talk specifics. What happened, where am I heading, why did I do this. It helps to connect all these themes into one big narrative. But the story is long (hence the idea of a book!) and it takes us nearly two hours to get through it. I want to not skimp on the details. I want her to know that neither of us are angry, that we both love each other, that neither of us did anything awful. We merely should have anticipated that we'd be in this place exactly now, and we didn't, so now here I am, taking dramatic steps with the hope that Ed will align with me on this one.

In the afternoon, I do not pack up boxes. There's a reason for it: the young family is coming tomorrow for dinner and I do not want the kids to be unnerved by a house under seige. But I get organized. I do laundry. I clear out shelves. I polish the table and clean canisters. And all the time I winder where all this is heading. 

(Is this the last lily? Maybe.)

 

 Evening. Reheated chili. More animal chores -- ones that are Ed's when he is here. As I walk back to the farmhouse, I cant help but smile at the porch lights. Leftover from Christmas. Why? Because, I like them. Ed likes them too. I think.

 

 

good night, with so much love...