Met a manThe jovial glad-to-be-alive mindset has been replaced with epic frustration. He's spending the evening trying to juggle fire with one hand. His bandages are blackened, his mouth is set in a line that I wouldn't cross if someone paid me and either he's going to burn down the house, the yard or most likely and deliberately the garage because the garage is now enemy number one, holding his remaining motorcycles. The plan is to sell all but one and keep one for tooling around the bay only because I had a giant panic attack when they began to talk about when Lochlan was going to have enough healing in his fingers to get back on a bike, because they are firm believers in getting right back into things. That's why when I was twenty-one and I crashed my mom's SUV, Cole came and got me and made me drive his car home. So I wouldn't be afraid and never drive again. I took that advice when I got married as well. Right back into things! Don't be afraid, stupid!
I was overwhelmed
Met a man
And yes
He helped
Met a man and he helped my cry the driest tears out from my eyes
Met a man and he looked so kind
Understanding I was blind
Met a man covered in red and he found a way inside my head
Met a man on top of the hill
Met a man and his cup was spilled
Met a man and he took me home and he made me feel alone
Alone
But sadly, I am still afraid of extending hearts too far, lest they break and stop working and make people die. Right, Cole? There's one chance I won't take, okay, sweetheart? Except maybe with your brother. I've been trying to kill him subtly for years now.
So Lochlan has grand plans to keep riding and I am constantly scanning the sales pages telling them precisely how much money they would get if they sold all of the bikes because from here on out Bridget is attempting to mandate air bags, roll cages, seatbelts, and certain life, instead of death. Teams of ninja assassins to scope out all danger would be nice too, if you know of any.
I'm pretty sure my hair will now grow in completely white after last week and I can't seem to leave Lochlan alone for even a minute, sitting on the edge of his knee while he eats his cereal and reads the paper, sitting on the floor of his closet while he chooses t-shirts with one good hand and shoves the rest of the pile back against the wall on the shelf, loitering in the bathroom doorway when he's clearly *ahem* otherwise engaged trying to take a pee, all manner of insanely clingy behaviors that attest to one fear I can't and won't overcome.
If he spends the rest of his life juggling fire by the sea, telling me to cut my bangs already and asking me to make the foods he likes the most as he paints pictures that come from the inside of his mad mind, I will be so happy.
Now I just have to work on the big one, who figures he is immortal and would dent a truck before a truck dents him and doesn't take any time to think about death because there are places Ben's mind does not need to go, who will happily invite company in when he's in the bathroom and tries to do awful things to me when I am trying to pee and he plays the guitar all damn day where I can't hear it and I wish he would just do it at home instead, sell his bikes too and never ever leave again.
I will bring the words, Ben will supply the melody and Lochlan will paint the surroundings in glorious color. Nothing will change, everyone will be safe and I won't have to worry ever again.
Yes, I know. Good luck to me.
Oh, but what you don't know is the tides are shifting as we speak. More tomorrow. I have another meeting to go to.
You're troubled and boy you are desperate
You're troubled at home and I know what's wrong
I see you fading so I'll help you up tonight
Come up here in the air
Come up here in the air
Come up here in the air tonight