We're back.
I was dragged back, kicking and screaming in a figurative sense. No one wanted to come back. It was a remarkably quiet drive-those of you with 5 and 6 year olds in the house will find that unbelievable. There is something about painted wood floors, showers with no water pressure, woodstoves, checkers and napping in the sun in a wet swimsuit until you're too hungry to wait another minute, so you run and grab a cookie and go right back to your nap that makes me want to ditch reality altogether.
I would in a heartbeat but I traded the workaholic for the man with a calling. He had to come back. He now has three days to prepare for a wedding, a funeral and the regular summer services, plus he starts teaching a course next week that he's not ready for and uncannily nervous about. This weekend Jacob finally felt the weight of a family. Which he coveted for so long and now he sees the responsibility.
Because unlike his previous somewhat parallel universe, this one doesn't stretch easily to include the notion that when life hands you curveballs you can just pick up and leave for a bit. He will take on more than most people can handle at once, because in between..
He's a runner.
At least that's what I call it. When life gets difficult or claustrophobic Jacob hits the road as soon as he can. Once he was gone for seven months. He barely plans these trips and is ready to call the airline and book a flight somewhere or pack the truck or whatever and leave town on a moment's notice (like Monday). He says for him a change of scenery always brings fresh insight, a fresh attitude and a renewal of the spirit.
Translation for the rest of us: Jacob has his own avoidance tendencies.
Who doesn't? It's okay. It's not a flaw, it's a coping mechanism and it works as well as some people's shot of brandy, or someone else's nervous breakdown. Or someone throwing a plate..
Er..
Whatever works, Jake. Then you get past the hard part, come back renewed and life continues on. No one can argue another's way of dealing with the low moments.
It's okay.
We're back. He always comes back. I wondered out loud if the four of us being there defeated his purpose, if we cramped his escape.
A very brief trace of the wild emotional Jake flickered through his beautiful blue eyes, because he has at once embraced and rejected the realization that I know him as well as I do and I can capitalize on it at will at last. Like he always has with me.
I pushed the unspoken into the light and we officially entered a new phase in our relationship. Equals. No one is in charge, no one leads. It's a partnership. He can continue to protect, I can continue to nurture and confirm and yet we can keep each other in check. Something he wouldn't allow before. He took charge. He didn't think I was strong enough for that. Because sure, I can hold him, I can tell him everything he wants to hear, I can tell him I am his now and know that he will look after me. But there was no place for acknowledging his thoughts or even negative feelings before. This time Jake was the one who was surprised that the world didn't cave in.
He doesn't have to be strong all the time and the running stops here. He said it stops because nomads are solitary, and he is no longer a solitary traveller. He's not alone, and the revelation hit him all at once this weekend with an audible smack. He is overjoyed. He has a whole family now.
Jacob isn't alone anymore. And neither are we.
And that is incredible progress made in three days in the middle of nowhere and that, dear Bridget, is why people run. When the familiar roles are stripped away on a new and unfamiliar common ground, you find out where you really stand and you don't have to run anymore. You can rest.
I kind of like standing right here, it feels really really good.
