Now I'm here with you, and I
Would like to think that you would stick around
You know that I'd just die to make you proud
Goodbye to you too. Bring on the Halloween decorations, the endless coffee. The baked apples and casseroles. The wine. Bring on the brightly colored rotten leaves and the mood that spirals all the way to the bottom, brought on by the early and late darkness, the time of year, the cold.
I will weather this like a forgotten sailboat in a storm. I will survive because that's what I do. Stubborn to the core, ridiculously weird and wonderful with lots of creative outlets to keep me busy. Stores of affection well-secured for the coming season like Mormon grain. I could feed hundreds with what I've saved though I use enough for ten people so maybe my needs may not equal someone else's.
Your hair. Caleb says it sweetly. I know, right? Just touching my shoulders if I pull my waves out straight. Bangs to my nose. I'm starting to feel exactly like myself at last, again, just in time for the rug to be yanked out, landing me on my ass.
Morning. I pull my coffee cup up to my lips, slurping up a sip. He hates that sound but it endears me to him nonetheless.
Sleep?
Some, yeah. He frowns at my response. He doesn't know what it means. You?
Yes, quite well now that it's cool. Listening to the rain was nice.
Ah. I wouldn't know. I can't hear it unless I stand very still right in front of the window and it's a heavy downpour. I always agree though, because it makes them feel better when they forget. It was, I lie.
Busy this morning? He acknowledges and ignores my lie.
Maybe. It depends. I do have a lunch with Christian and Andrew.
What time?
One sharp. They're making waffles from scratch. I'm less of a guest and more of a guinea pig.
Ah.
You can come with me-
No. I was hoping to maybe spend the day. Are you free after lunch?
Around three. I do have an hour of meditation planned but you can join me for that, if you like.
Meditation?
That's what I call it. I just lie in the gazebo on the floor and listen to music. It's my me time but Sam suggested I call it something more legitimate, as chanting Om and sitting crosslegged thinking about nothing is apparently more acceptable than wallowing in one's own misery, winding my feelings out on beautiful music. I think my 'meditation' is more useful long term. It's an outlet. It's a relief and a release all at once.
I know.
You don't kn-
Oh, I know, Bridget. I knew back when I'd drive you home from the lake and you'd play the same songs over and over and over again on my tape deck, rewinding it constantly the whole way home. And I told you to leave it and you sulked and sat back with your arms crossed and your lip out for all of five seconds and then you reached out with one finger and hit that rewind button again and I never gave you a hard time about it again. Do you remember that? Because I definitely do and I've tried to entertain those needs for you ever since.
I nod because he's right and it's raining again and I don't want to felt Cole's sweater but I don't want to leave this moment either.
So stay. Just for a bit. Perfect weather to play that soundtrack in your head.
Wish you could h-
I can hear it. It's loud, Neamhchiontach. So loud sometimes it scares me.
Good.