Monday, 2 April 2007

This is the house that Jake built.

    Throw the rocks and break the glass
    I'll get down on my knees and kiss your ass
    'Cause you're the one to be in my dreams
    It never was
    It isn't what it seems

Good morning. My apologies to Caldecott for stealing his title and changing it to suit my whims.

I have new Earth Shoes and a fresh outlook. I feel like a million dollars.

Shhh. It might be the Vicodin.

I haven't run, the last day being with Loch who is the most impatient, quietest, most dedicated non-runner ever. He doesn't run, he prefers to do strength training in a sweaty gym somewhere, standing still (pffft) but by the time he left here he was talking about maybe starting a daily run. Ha! And, must be nice.

Consensus is definitely that something is going to be taken away here, therapy-wise. The pills seem to have little effect, what's having effect is the brutal honesty with which I can finally confess to Jacob exactly how many times a day, a night, an hour I think of Cole, or remember something about him, and exactly how many times a day it's a positive or a negative thought. I didn't think I could tell him, and I told him that and he floored me by being able to take that. God forbid if our roles were reversed, I wouldn't want to know.

My God, I love this man.

And the wall came down yesterday, the wall in the kitchen that was my target as the human flying machine, a wall full of shelves and dishes that shattered brilliantly in the evening light as every bone in my body flexed magically and only 3 out of 206 broke. I should have kept count of exactly how many dishes Cole broke over the course of our lives together.

Jacob had taken what was left of the shelves down and repaired the wall itself from the outline my head and shoulders embossed into it but we never put the shelves back up and now the whole wall is gone, a beautiful archway in it's place, a new door opens, literally and figuratively, and we made the old opening into a wall. The house flows better and I don't stand and look at that wall anymore, swearing I can still see my outline because there is no wall to look at. It's one less proverbial wall to climb over in search of memories that don't hurt.

Sparing Jacob's feelings, sparing Bridget's, it's sweet but it doesn't fix Bridget, what's fixing her is the time. He keeps pointing out how much time has passed and how quickly it's slipping through our fingers. And I don't know anyone as strong as Jacob. I never will again. He is it. Strongest man I ever met. Strongest man you'll ever meet, should you be so lucky. A man convinced that no matter how much I think it might be hard for him to hear things or for me to say things, or for him to have to rebuild an entire room to change the past, then the step forward is worth the harmful part, if only as a means to an end.

He wanted it down before a year was up and so he did it.

It's our house now.

I cheered. And he grinned and I noticed his dimples filled that new doorway.