Mornings like these I miss running. I miss ducking out of the house in my gear and booking down the street in a familiar path. I don't run here. There's nowhere to go, even if there were enough sidewalks. I don't have enough hearing anymore to risk the road, even against traffic and besides, my knees hate me for it-
So let's go anyway. Caleb arrives into the kitchen to read my brains, placing a kiss hard against the top of my head, rubbing the back of my neck gently. With two of us we can take the trails.
(I'm not allowed to run alone in the woods anymore.)
Oh my God. DEAL.
I run back upstairs to get ready. When I come in Lochlan stirs. Come back. He holds one arm up and then it drops in slow motion as he falls back asleep mid-plea. I kiss his cheek and tell him that Caleb and I going running. I don't think he hears me but it's okay, I'll let PJ know too.
I lament not getting new winter runners but the old ones will do. They're not one hundred percent waterproof anymore but maybe feeling the cold seeping up in between my toes is exactly what I mean, considering it's not like I ever wear shoes on the beach, winter OR summer.
And we're off, driving out of the neighbourhood carefully. I wonder if it was a bad idea because of the roads and maybe because the trails turned out to be full of snow far too deep to run in, but good for walking for men over six feet tall. We switched gears early on, coming back out and walking unfamiliar neighbourhoods instead, but thankfully shovelled, fully-sidewalked neighbourhoods. My runners are now encrusted with road salt and dirt and my fever has abated for the time being.
Good?
Good. An hour and a half is lots, as it's still tough going and it's cold and damp, below freezing so we call it a day. Caleb suggests breakfast, a moot point as I adore going out for breakfast. We find a new little place that is less of a hole in the wall and more of a dent, settling in, placing orders after a glance at the menu and being given hot cups of fresh coffee.
How did Jake do it? He asks me abruptly. I check his expression but it's open and concerned. He's not one to turn screws or even invoke He Who Must Not Be Named, as he's loathe to remind me of anything but himself, true to form.
Do what? I ask in my surprise.
Keep your cabin fever at bay. He's the only one, as far as I can tell, who was able to keep it from being such an albatross.
Jacob kept up a near constant narrative that God was so good we should be endlessly grateful for every little thing we had, that God had provided for us and we were blessed and complaining would be bratty and selfish. So I bit my tongue. He also made such a huge effort to be over-the-top fun, always singing or finding something creative to be doing so it wasn't so serious. He knew how to pull the surface tension of life taut enough that when he broke it it made such a huge impact. He had a good balance anyway.
That's the frankest you've been.
Is that even a word-
Bridget, can we do that?
Make me fearful of complaining about anything lest I get a huge righteous lecture, you mean?
No, break the tension.
You are. We got out for a walk, we're doing things. It's fine.
You never relax anymore.
Wow.
You live with your tongue still bitten, you still hold for our permissions-
Stop.
Sorry?
Let's just enjoy our food. I don't want to talk about Jake, I don't want to be psychoanalyzed, I just want to eat my breakfast in peace.
I can do that for you.
Thank you.
But see? Again it was something I had to approve.
I didn't say anything for the rest of the meal or the drive home. I paid for the food though just to assert my own will. I don't think this is how it's done though.
So let's go anyway. Caleb arrives into the kitchen to read my brains, placing a kiss hard against the top of my head, rubbing the back of my neck gently. With two of us we can take the trails.
(I'm not allowed to run alone in the woods anymore.)
Oh my God. DEAL.
I run back upstairs to get ready. When I come in Lochlan stirs. Come back. He holds one arm up and then it drops in slow motion as he falls back asleep mid-plea. I kiss his cheek and tell him that Caleb and I going running. I don't think he hears me but it's okay, I'll let PJ know too.
I lament not getting new winter runners but the old ones will do. They're not one hundred percent waterproof anymore but maybe feeling the cold seeping up in between my toes is exactly what I mean, considering it's not like I ever wear shoes on the beach, winter OR summer.
And we're off, driving out of the neighbourhood carefully. I wonder if it was a bad idea because of the roads and maybe because the trails turned out to be full of snow far too deep to run in, but good for walking for men over six feet tall. We switched gears early on, coming back out and walking unfamiliar neighbourhoods instead, but thankfully shovelled, fully-sidewalked neighbourhoods. My runners are now encrusted with road salt and dirt and my fever has abated for the time being.
Good?
Good. An hour and a half is lots, as it's still tough going and it's cold and damp, below freezing so we call it a day. Caleb suggests breakfast, a moot point as I adore going out for breakfast. We find a new little place that is less of a hole in the wall and more of a dent, settling in, placing orders after a glance at the menu and being given hot cups of fresh coffee.
How did Jake do it? He asks me abruptly. I check his expression but it's open and concerned. He's not one to turn screws or even invoke He Who Must Not Be Named, as he's loathe to remind me of anything but himself, true to form.
Do what? I ask in my surprise.
Keep your cabin fever at bay. He's the only one, as far as I can tell, who was able to keep it from being such an albatross.
Jacob kept up a near constant narrative that God was so good we should be endlessly grateful for every little thing we had, that God had provided for us and we were blessed and complaining would be bratty and selfish. So I bit my tongue. He also made such a huge effort to be over-the-top fun, always singing or finding something creative to be doing so it wasn't so serious. He knew how to pull the surface tension of life taut enough that when he broke it it made such a huge impact. He had a good balance anyway.
That's the frankest you've been.
Is that even a word-
Bridget, can we do that?
Make me fearful of complaining about anything lest I get a huge righteous lecture, you mean?
No, break the tension.
You are. We got out for a walk, we're doing things. It's fine.
You never relax anymore.
Wow.
You live with your tongue still bitten, you still hold for our permissions-
Stop.
Sorry?
Let's just enjoy our food. I don't want to talk about Jake, I don't want to be psychoanalyzed, I just want to eat my breakfast in peace.
I can do that for you.
Thank you.
But see? Again it was something I had to approve.
I didn't say anything for the rest of the meal or the drive home. I paid for the food though just to assert my own will. I don't think this is how it's done though.