You wouldn't like me.Yesterday was a Family Holiday. The four of us plus Daniel, Schuyler, PJ, Christian, Sam, Caleb, Duncan, Dylan, August, Lochlan and Mark spent the day together, with extended visits besides from Nolan and his boys and from Joel.
Keep moving on until forever ends.
Don't try to fight me.
The beauty queen has lost her crown again.
So here we are, fighting and trying to hide the scars.
I'll be home tonight, take a breath and softly say goodbye.
The lonely road, the one that I should try to walk alone.
I'll be home tonight, take a breath and softly say goodbye.
I'm always amazed when I can pack sixteen men into one room. This house is Victorian, the rooms are small. The men are not small. Okay, Lochlan and Daniel are smaller and frankly sick of me pointing that out online so let's just say it's a treat to have the dynamics of everyone here at the same time. Those who could not come called, and those who could not call wrote, there was no shortage of proof of live and love and I was able to check off another entire anxiety-free day in my life, I almost have a handful now. I'm proud of myself.
They were all relaxed, though, somehow. It was cold out, I was surrounded by jeans and sweaters and hoodies and warm smiles. Not having to be in charge. Only one tense moment early on when Ben put himself in Caleb's personal space and they exchanged a look so dark I could see lightning flashes in the distance and then inexplicably the skies cleared and it was clear blue sailing and I didn't stop to question it, I let it rest because they've reached a level playing field and that's where things are best so don't mess with it and everyone was so excited that Ben was able to carve out some days, he's learning how to concentrate in fragments since that's one of the biggest challenges of being a parent and so he can now almost slip in and out of his head with minimal damage workwise.
Thursday evening when he got home he pulled me into the hot shower with him and scrubbed me all over, sending rivers of soap over my skin and washing off any fingerprints that weren't his. Lathering up my hair and stripping the scent of the days without him from my head. Holding me so tightly under the stream against his chest so none of my breaths were without him. Washing off his life without me, his travels and time spent investing in the future so that someday he'll be free of his contract and he can go back to work at will which is the way he works best, ironically.
I have swung back to days without suspicion, secure in that I am loved instead of wanted as the prize, safe without cost and I don't know if that comes from Satan's best behavior or Ben's presence in my days and nights suddenly again or if there's something in me that I figured out finally. I don't know so I'll just take it, but not for granted, and see what happens next. It's just nice to have things the way they are supposed to be. It's rare but wonderful, as was yesterday, and I want my boys to know that they are my world and my air and my heart.
And so I told them. Didn't see much surprise on their faces.
What I did see though, on one, was the absence of the ego chip that flies home securely fastened to one rather large shoulder in particular. A chip that generally was taking around six or twelve hours to dissolve when it arrived each time.
Except for this time.
That chip was gone the moment he laid his eyes on me this time, and was replaced with the softened watery-quavery sweet-Ben with the quiet eyes and hollow angelic voice that I think he prefers to keep hidden behind a bitter defense. He didn't hide it this time. Not with me, anyway. And I didn't hide anything from him either, choosing to acknowledge the hardest aspects of his absences with slightly twisted variations on his own quantifiable solutions that make everyone happy. Who to spend time with, how to deal with the overwhelming fear-urges that take over and make us destructive, unhealthy. And so when he finally had a clean and untouched Bridget for his very own and he forced my head back, his lips against my jaw, forcing his thumb between my lips and the breath from my lungs, he said he could live with this, that he liked this, that I could be his heart and still manage to breathe, on my own, without his air when I had to. When I have to, not when I want to.
There is a difference. And it is defined at last, on a very important day, no less, so we can mark it forever.
Cake included.