Ridiculously talented cro-magnon men.

What a desolate day. I got up at seven to walk the puppy, having learned I clench my teeth in my sleep and maybe that explains waking up with headaches all the time. It was still dark outside. Winter is knocking on the door. I have it barricaded. Hopefully it will hold for a while.

I'm about to drive downtown to pick up Ruth, who has an early art class each Saturday at a lovely gallery downtown. She will come home with paint on her clothes, clay under her nails and fresh inspiration, for she loves art as much as her father did. As much as the boys do. It keeps them civilized when otherwise I think they would grunt, accept a plate full of meat, beat their clubs for entertainment, go slay another wild animal with their bare hands and then invite me to be wrapped in the animal skin blankets they make and keep me safe through the night. I get all that now plus music and visual arts to keep us refined!

Maybe it's a silly day. Maybe it's just going to be a quiet day.

Maybe something great will happen.

Or maybe I will try for a nap. I do that every five years or so, just out of the blue.

PS I realize I never reviewed the Metallica concert. I will, perhaps tomorrow! It still feels like it was all a dream.

Covenants.

(The crunching noises are the broken records underfoot.)

The quieter drone this morning surprised me. Muffled by cold air, muted with soaking fallen leaves, it was more peaceful and yet far more frightening this morning as I walked quickly down the concrete path, using muscle memory to stay upright over the places where I remember that there are large cracks and the plates have lifted just enough to make you crack an elbow or twist an ankle rather badly. I'm glad I had so much time to learn this route by heart, because it's dark now and it's so much harder to get here. I squeeze Ben's hand, pulling a little. He stumbles slightly and my heart lurches because if he trips or falls I can't catch him, there's no way I could hold him up or rescue him from a falter the way he has done for me countless times. It makes me feel helpless. It makes me feel responsible.

He isn't feeling well this morning, running a fever, strung out on exhaustion and the weight of the world that presses down, leaving us blind with headaches and clenched teeth. Change has come, and we are testing how it feels, dipping our feet into it, bravely venturing in for a quick dip and then hurrying back to the edge where we sit and regard how it feels without truly surrendering to the newness. Not quite yet. Soon.

He is trusting me this morning. There is fear but also curiosity and concern. There is the protective nature that once made the decision that led me to latch onto Ben like a barnacle on the side of an old sailboat because his focus is singular but loving. He doesn't want to control, or change, or fix, he simply wants to be here. In his own way with the fireworks of emotions he sets off randomly and without warning, he is a simple creature at heart. He rules by his heart and nothing more. Only his heart is missing because I have it. He has mine in return.

We haven't quite figured out how that works but it will come. It is still new. It seems like forever but it's not.

He looks at me and I point to the door. He opens it and then stands back as I enter without hesitating.

Jacob is standing right in front of me. Wings outstretched. I think we woke him. He is so beautiful I want to cry. He looks right past me to Ben and cocks his head, smiling slightly, thoroughly confused as to why I would bring Ben here. To see this.

Cole makes a soft noise from somewhere up above in recognition. It's been years since they have seen Ben and I didn't warn them. I didn't warn him. I didn't know what to do.

Every time I walk through this door I feel bitterness mixed with relief. It's a safe place. Getting here is so dangerous but the room in itself is inviolable, sheltered. I turn and look for Ben and bump into him. I can feel the tension roiling in him and also that same relief.

What are you thinking, princess?

Jake's focus on me is intense and singular once more, recovered from the surprise of seeing Benjamin in this place because Benjamin knows death and does not like it and thinks I am completely insane sometimes for having made this room. But I didn't make it. I found it! I just surrender to their arguments because there is no point in doing anything else.

He wants to know where I go. I am showing him.

Do you think that's wise?

It really doesn't matter if it's smart. He's not ashamed of me. I can be myself.

Because he has worse problems.

Because he doesn't have an agenda.

A noise from somewhere near the ceiling registers Cole's protest. Jacob frowns, but it's the fake frown he used when he was disappointed and wanted to appear to be troubled. I've had time to study all of his expressions since I kept him.

There is no pretending here, guys.

I see that.

Cole lands behind Jacob and I gasp. Rarely do they stand together and I turn slightly to put Ben in my peripheral vision and it's really amazing to see the three of them at one time and oddly I want to know what color Ben's wings will be someday but then I eat that awful thought, chewing without swallowing because that is precisely why I'm here.

I need something.

A real smile from Jacob, and curiosity from Cole, who always had so much trouble showing any emotion, other than anger and regret. I mistook regret for love. I will never do that again.

I need you to hide him.

From?

Everything bad.

Bridget-

Please, Jake.

He frowns, for real this time.

Fear incapacitates you, Bridget.

No. It doesn't. It creates resolve.

Hopelessness.

Determination.

Only briefly.

Wow, Jacob. As much as I would love to stand here and shake and freeze to death I didn't come to trade big words with you. Will you help me or not?

Help you. Keep him alive?

Yes.

What makes you think I can do that?

The same gift that lets you lie to my face about why you taught yourself to fly. The same gift that enabled to you fool Cole into thinking you were friends so that you could watch over me. The same one that made me think you were human. You never were. You were a dream. I'm asking you to take that focus now and watch over Ben. I can't lose him.

What will kill him is the-

Just don't say it. Keep him fixable. I can't do more than that. I have to keep this at the beginning of the fear or I will stop moving and it will win and I can't allow that.

He needs to do this himself.

He can't! That's why I'm here. I can do this. I'm stronger.

And you'll pay the price.

I should have paid it a long time ago. I didn't ask for this. I asked to take the place of anyone, everyone, I wanted to be the one.

Bridget, don't you talk like that.

This is not a life, Jake. This is breathing through a whole different kind of fear.

Cole stepped forward and stared at me. Hard. An intense, uncomfortable scrutiny that I never appreciated but understood. He nodded at me and smiled and my heart broke with relief.

Thank you. I mouthed it because I knew I would never be heard.

Cole shook his head and spoke, finally.

We're not doing this, baby girl. You are.

Everything went dark and I knew my time was up. We felt our way to the wall and back the way we had come when I heard something. Or I thought I heard something, anyway.

I turned around because we had just stepped through the doorway and I was too late. The door slammed shut in my face. Ben looked alarmed, pulling me toward him, for a split-second wondering if I had left some fingers or toes behind. The noise from the abruptness echoed down the hallway, deafening both of us.

I stared at Ben in the dark. He stared back, maybe finally understanding a little bit of my faith and what my God can do and why I need to keep that room but why he's never allowed to ever come here alone and how I can rectify loving and hating both of the men I keep in that room without going outwardly insane in the process. Why I will protect him until the day I die, and why I was able to extend that day that much further away from me, when before I would have welcomed it with open arms.

Instead, I will use my arms to hold onto him. And I will keep him safe. I have all kinds of resources at my disposal to ensure that this time, there will be no broken promises.

Pour that sugar.

There are no coincidences and Ben has a greater pool from which to fish for reinforcements than I ever realized, an extended network of friends that will give you the teeth out of their mouths if yours are not strong enough to chew. Okay, that sounds disgusting but I like nice teeth and I've seen a lot of amazing smiles lately. It seems that one of the first things someone does when they get a big fat royalty cheque is to run off to the dentist and do things up right.

That's awesome.

Then they drop everything and go stay with friends. Rolling in like vagabonds from the road with a list of meals they want me to make a mile long because I have a "real kitchen" and I think I'm in for a whole lot of running and then I notice that oh my god. They aren't just coming through and stopping in. This was a special trip. Because things needed to get done and hearts always can use a few extra-strong stitches to hold them together and hugs are something everyone needs and no one can buy.

Ben took longer to figure that out then I ever have.

I'm imagining the boys get a weird cross-section of life here in a short time span but there's nothing I can do about that....

Except go make breakfast.

I hate goodbyes.

I will return all the emails in a day or two. I promise!

Mmmmmm, making two big dinners for tonight. Beef stew in the crock pot and a shepherd's pie. Did a little grocery shopping this morning, dog walking and such. It's the last full day of most of our company and then tomorrow will be rather hectic. But above all, I'm going to see my doctor and I'm going to point to my sore throat and swollen glands and say help, jesus, please. Lose a few hours of sleep and the germs rush in and overtake Bridget. Feasting on her vulnerabilities.

Ah well.

Back to the mayhem.

Monday.

And if hope could grow from dirt like me.
It can be done.
Won't let the light escape from me.
Won't let the darkness swallow me.

There is always a singalong when someone plays Down.

There will always be so much attention paid to the Bridget, children and animals that we all implode under the watchful scrutiny of those who hold us within their love.

We will always run out of milk, cookies and bread first, though the turkey, gravy and cornbread stuffing wasn't far behind. The coffee continues to flow, a river of alert cutting a violent path through the sleepy forest, the fog low and thick in the trees.

Snow persists here and there, mostly in the odd, misshapen attempts made by all the children to have snowmen witness the welcome Canadian Thanksgiving, and hearing that the place we head next will be sixty degrees warmer in the winter and yet for some reason they find it cold and still make pilgrimages to buy remote car starters and electric blankets. We marvel at our ability to continue to build such character and to smile through our wasteland of a winter and we know these days are coming to a close, and there are brighter, warmer days on the horizon.

The sun is finally up here, two hours after me.

The puppy has gone back to sleep at my feet. If Henry hadn't made it all the way to ten last night he would be here now scavenging for bagels and honey, juice and a warm blanket and some weekday morning television shows. He really thinks that next Saturday night he'll be able to make it til eleven and watch The Addams Family. I have my doubts.

He is like his mother, who persists in being an active participant long past her expiry time, hiding yawns behind hands and happy to get up and fetch things if only to stay awake, determined not to miss a moment of these times and then forced to pretend she doesn't notice when they all collectively call it a night on her behalf. So she pretends not to see when hours later, she wakes up and gets up for a few minutes and sees lights under the ill-fitting, tiny bedroom doors because no one was truly tired (my time zone seems to be lighthours ahead), and everyone is quietly reading as they wait for the sleep that ambushed Bridget, an unwilling victim, hours before the rest. It's the gift of her own particular brand of endearing exhaustion.

But it is Monday morning, and there is much to do and places to go and music to hear and more good food to eat and a lot of must-dos this morning, like laundry and preparing homework for tomorrow, and life resumes the pace it has set even though we would like it to stay slow and warm and at the perfect volume.

Hello darlin', nice to see you.

It's been a long time.

I thought today had gone to hell.

Henry woke up throwing up (almost a typical Thanksgiving response the past four years running) and the dog seems determined to be difficult. Delayed flights are being watched closely and everyone is praying for the snow to melt, so we can go back to the blustery fall we had only just begun to enjoy. The leaves are still on the trees, I should not be digging pumpkins out of the drifts on the back steps.

Then Ben did an impression of Conway Twitty, complete with awkward steady gaze and strangely-small mouth™.

I laughed so hard I had to beg him to stop singing. I hurt all over.

Best thing ever, or so I thought...

Because you should have seen Conway covering Duran Duran. Instant classic, I tell you.

Hallo from the front lines.

Tearing it back, unveiling me.
Taking a step back so I can breathe.
Hear the silence about to break.
Fear resistance when I'm awake.

I'm sure last night it was a collective agreement. Put the tranquilizer in her food, toss a pillow under her head and lights out, pigalet.

I slept from ten until six. Without waking up. Those nights are gold to me. Caleb pulled big brother and we took the kids over last night for an early thanksgiving movie party and sleepover. Maybe there is something in the air at his loft. In any case, both Ben and I slept, and getting up at six to pull on clothes and go home to get ready for the day proper wasn't nearly as painful as it usually is. And we had fun. We watched Gremlins. Seriously. Gizmo reminds me of Bonham.

And now I'm home from yet another grocery run and have plans to spoil myself for the rest of the day. It probably won't happen, but I've got the turkey, stuffing, gravy, potatoes, carrots, rolls, broccoli, fresh strawberries and apples and I'm ready to enjoy the long weekend the way it was meant to be enjoyed.

In the kitchen, doing dishes.

For those I love.

Happy Thanksgiving.

And look. I'm not planning on murdering Ben. Yesterday was overwhelming and I cracked a little and then it got better. He acknowledges the time I spend in the concrete room inside my head and I will tell you more about it as we go along here. Also be warned, the next two weeks will be sporadic. We have company and then we're taking a little trip so if you don't see all that much activity between now and the 22nd, don't panic.

I will try not to, as well. This is good stuff. Be happy for us. Things are going as well as they ever do, barring ghosts, illness and electromagnetic impulses.

Yes, I managed to fry both the Xbox 360 and my car keys (again). What the fuck. Hide your macbooks and iPhones, my big apple dumplings.

I am not afraid.

I've decided I'm going to take Ben to visit Jake and Cole when I go back. Don't even ask me how I'm going to do this, it's not your concern. Just like Caleb's bid for immortality and the fact the boys have built a truly magnificent life for me here in which reality doesn't even have a speaking role isn't either.

Just know that there are some things you just need to take on faith. Not these things. Other things. Nevermind, please.

Houseguests when you have a double ear infection.

In my defense, I already did three loads of laundry and cleaned up after all of the slobs currently occupying every last space, hard or soft, left in the house and I've even thrown together a whole collection of freshly prepped things to eat, fruits, veggies, hard boiled eggs, cold meats, etc. No one's going to die of hunger on my watch, Duncan.

And now I'm going to demonstrate the true princess nature within by spending the bulk of the afternoon lying on the kitchen floor listening to Apocalyptica on full blast and yelling for my minions to bring me orange juice. Note: The stereo speakers are on the fridge. If I reach out with my left foot I can whack the fridge door.

I just don't want to drink out of the carton, even though that's not a deterrent for all of you.

Chop chop, people. Bring cake. Bring Thai. Bring Vicodin. Princess down.

Battened hatches.

It's an odd day. This morning there were not one but two days in the coming week's forecast that had snowflakes and flurries included. Enough for me to pick the cold, cloudy day to go out and rake up the leaves and mulch in all of the beautiful perennials Ben talked me into last spring when I pointed out I just didn't feel much like doing a huge vegetable garden again. Lucky thing that, because it was the coldest summer in a long time. I put away the patio umbrella and the watering cans and upended the wheelbarrow. I traded my gardening implements for the snow shovels and contemplated emptying the rain barrel. The hose is away and the patio lights too, and it already looks barren and abandoned in my once lush and overgrown Victorian patio. Ben already put the storm windows up on the weekend. We're ready.

It put me in the mood and so I continued inside the house, putting fresh candles in the candlesticks and the candelabra. I went to the store to get some things, and bought a door decoration that says simply "Happy Halloween". I came home and hung it up straight away, that and the gruesome skeletons from last year, the ones tied with jute, each one with a tiny, painstakingly-tied noose. It's quite disturbing, actually. I put out the small collection of skeleton snowglobes and we already have the pumpkins outside so aside from picking up some candy I do believe I am ready for Halloween.

You'll be pleased to know the store had some other door signs as well, including one that read "Insane Asylum". I didn't buy that one.

I probably should have.