Saturday, 15 September 2007

Nightingales.

A melodious plot indeed.

He was quoting Keats all evening in his painkilled creative state.

Jacob did very well, no complications, in and out and home to the couch where I surprised him with some new DVDs, a documentary on Mount Everest and three installments of Eco-Challenge. He asked if I would make him some fruit salad and then when I brought it back to him he was out cold, sleeping because he hadn't slept Thursday night.

This morning he woke up and we exclaimed over how bruised he was and wow, are we ever a matched set because I bruise astonishingly as well, and then he looked at me and told me not to worry, that this closed door is a blessing for us and that doors are opening all over the place and we'll notice them soon enough and that he is content, that he is happy, he has a perfect family and he's a lucky man and that if I have absolutely any doubts that this was the right thing to do I am to let them go now, because it is the right thing for us.

And then he apologized and asked for another pill and said he was going to go back to sleep for a bit.

This weekend isn't going to consist of any more than taking it easy. Work stops for a little bit on the house. We probably won't go to church tomorrow. It is supposed to be a little warmer so maybe later today he can sit outside and watch the kids practice their gymnastics and maybe we can grill a final summer dinner before the cold returns.

While I keep my eyes open for those new wide-open doors.