Tuesday, 26 June 2007

Glass.

Loch called me with a comeuppance and a few cautions besides. He told me to slow down, for Jacob and I to take our time, the forever clause invoked with a bent toward being healthy instead of crazy, turning inward to each other instead of spreading so thin, being more protective of what we fought so hard for in the first place.

It was better advice than we have had in the past fifteen months, it was fatherly without being disapproving, a gentle nod from someone who's had a ringside seat for so long he created my circus as well as the participating audience.

He is absolutely right.

Maybe in our rush to be a part of each other we have failed to keep in check all the things that make us individuals. I've got my crazy and beautiful, Jacob has his logical and steadfast. He brings that handsome smile and I melt, visibly and without warning and it causes me to forget all sorts of wonderful things.

Like my common sense.

I never had any common sense with Jacob. I could never do anything right. I could never fail to make mistakes and topple balanced worlds and spin fixed objects. He could never see anything except for Bridget and biding his time until Bridget.

Yes, we probably will kill each other with the intensity that burns so hot everything around us turns to glass. Glass is so brittle, so transparent and so incredibly fragile.

We, however, are not.

Off with my head.