I think it's time you walked this lonely road
All on your own
It's your cold day in the sun
Looks like your bleeding heart has already won
I wish I could take it away
And save you from yourself
You get so lost inside your head
Like no one else
Are you looking for someone to blame?
Did you blame me all along?
In the interest of being honest, of not sugarcoating life, Jacob ran. Let's call a spade a spade.
It'll be alright, baby girl.
Once I got past the shattering surprise and then the rage, complete with a mental plan to burn down his truck in the garage (no worries, I didn't, but I thought about it.) I realized it was going to be okay. He needs time sometimes. Living with me isn't easy, the grass isn't greener over here on Bridget's lawn. Plus it was a safe trip. Three nights, fully chaperoned thanks to Erin and Joel, who both attend the same conference and didn't leave Jacob alone for a second. No, Sophie wasn't there. And surprisingly Jacob cut it short, missing me, missing the kids, missing life as it is becoming a lot more stable and hoping he didn't fuck it up by going.
He didn't, but I did get an extra therapy session out of my abandonment issues and I had some trust issues with Jacob's timing. He wasn't planning to go, and hell, he held my hand for ten hours straight so tightly I woke up repeatedly the night he found out a whole new round of mindblowing Coleisms that I had somehow suppressed. So when he abruptly decided to attend and was packing the next morning I admit I was stung by it.
I shouldn't have been. He's legendary for just picking up and going and somehow still he managed to corral PJ and Andrew and August to trade off babysitting/support duties without telling me. Some would say he needs therapy to stay put when the going gets tough, even though his therapy is prayer and isolation and travel. A new latitude to see things in a new light. I knew this going into the marriage. And please remember the going is always tough here. There is no break from dealing with what we deal with. What I deal with. The progress is visible but sometimes bad times are simply that: bad times.
He came through the door in a whirlwind of blonde and navy blue backpack and his satchel full of books and notebooks and dumped it all on the kitchen floor and dropped to his knees with his arms out wide for me on Sunday afternoon and I flew into those arms laughing with relief, because he came home.
For some reason, I really never expected him to.
