Circle once and come back.

In the distance
Light years from tomorrow
But far beyond yesterday
She is watching
Heart aching with sorrow
She is broken, as she waits
Hoping that when all is said and done, we learn to love and be as one

Oh Starlight
Don’t you cry we’re gonna make it right before tomorrow
Oh Starlight
Don’t you cry we’re going to find a place where we belong
And so you know you’ll never shine alone

I came home late last night.

One last chance to show you the kind of man I can be, he said as we boarded the plane.

One last chance to show you I mean you no harm, he said, as he took my hand and kissed it and a shiver went down my spine.

One last chance to show you I have always loved you, he said as he lifted his cupped hand and poured hot water down my shoulders and over my back. I closed my eyes and leaned against his chest, my forehead against his clavicle. I let his arms draw me in and I let go of everything I was holding. My worries. My fear. His request for this moment. I let the heat of the water overcome me and my mind was blank, gloriously parked in a wooded glade, not racing down the asphalt at two hundred kilometres an hour. Picking flowers would have taken too much effort, I just stared into the sun through the trees.

Princess.

I jolted and my nose bumped his ear as I raised my head. Caleb passed me my wine, against my better judgement of things made of glass in the bathtub. I took it but he held it for an extra beat in case I wasn't actually coherent.

You fell asleep.

Almost.

He smiled his millionaire smile and I took a sip from the glass and when the steam cleared from my eyes I made a note that he wasn't Cole and that was okay because he was Caleb, like Cole 2.0, new and improved, richer and longer lasting and I laughed out loud and I swear to God that man doesn't count his worth in terms of dollars anymore but that's what men are like when I am around.

It was a good weekend, an uproariously fun weekend, full of airplanes and crowds and wine and kind Russians and kind Czechs (?) too and singing and sleeping and holding our breath that first day during qualifying when I thought I was about to see a plane crash with my own eyes but thankfully it didn't and I'm glad for the health of the pilot and for the fact that last night I had to board the teeny-tiny private jet to come back home. I'm glad for Ben because he had an absolute blast and came away with a new effort to get and keep his newfound sobriety in order to regain his wings which could someday make him the oldest pilot in the air race (but don't tell him that part) and he was content to share his stake in Bridget with no strings attached like the ones that tie me to Lochlan because I don't need-need Caleb. I just want him in my life and I'm done making apologies to the one-love folks and to the boys. I'm just done making apologies period. I'm finally at a place in my life where I can choose what I want and maybe that's mixed with a tiny streak of recklessness for the simple fact that I can't bring the dead back to life. But only for color and flavour. I like my recklessness light.

Suffice it to say there's a huge comfort to be gained from standing in between the Dark Lords. I never once felt like a ghost could sneak up on me, never felt the need for Lochlan's comfort, the kind I have sought out religiously since 1979. I just wanted to have fun and I did, so everyone should be happy for me. My face hurt from smiling. That doesn't happen. Caleb and Ben? Both romantic and that doesn't happen all the time either but when it does it's like Christmas mixed with fireworks and cotton candy and God. Like holy sticky exploding things.

NICE.

Snort.

Ben even bought me flowers, which I brought home with us. Gerbera daisies in the colors of the planes I liked best because I mentioned in passing that I wanted to have so many flowers in the house it would be positively stupid. Because he hears everything and misses nothing and tries so hard to accommodate my every whim, even the really stupid/bad idea ones, and because he's so incredibly generous with me I think all the boys should get down on their knees and worship him if we rolled like that but we don't.

And Lochlan didn't much like the fact that I went away with Ben and with Satan but when I came back he was quick to be cajoled into a long hold and then he could see how he has an addiction of a different sort and in his heart he lives on his knees for me, and that's ironic because in our spare time late at night he would spend hours standing in the middle of the dirt road behind the tent, long after the crowds had filtered away, teaching me how to juggle. Patiently. Tirelessly.

One last chance to make you the star of the show, Bridgie.

And now I am.

And oh, I think I finally having the juggling part down. At last. This is awesome.

Waiting for Ben and Caleb to stop talking already. Lying down in the back of the car playing with Ben's iphone. Seriously buzzy like a little tiny well dressed well loved well drunked bumblebee. Haha. This is awesome. I had so much fun then ont lu thing I left missed was my lochlan but he wasn't hrer.boo.

This is what being a Bond girl is really like.

Every rogue pilot in Canada seems to be here. This is candy. Ben and Caleb are getting along smashingly, and it's sunny and twenty-five degrees. I'm just enjoying the men and my pretty dresses and the excitement. I am the excitement in some circles. So there.

But since you can here hoping for something exciting on my journal, here, lookie at what PJ sent me earlier. Hypnotic and amazing. I am stunned. Music by Archive. Enjoy.

Going to fly out to see the air race. Back Monday.

The space in between.

I found perfection last night in a hot bathtub, my knees hooked over Ben's thighs, my head on his chest. We sat like that, in the dark, in the steam, without talking, without thinking. Then we reluctantly climbed out of the giant bathtub, which from now on will be referred to as Gulliver's lap pool, and went to sleep.

I found perfection at dinner tonight in pork chops simmered in mushrooms, salted baby potatoes, green beans and the garlic buttered rolls I have mastered. It tasted delicious. Like summer, only when you don't barbecue and fire up the whole kitchen instead.

I found perfection in that fleeting thought again that this is it. Roll the windows down, turn the music up, send a happy text message and enjoy that moment. Dig into the soil with both hands and sift through the cool damp earth as you put the roses where you want them and the lilac where it will be visible to everyone coming to visit. Let the sun warm your skin and relish the quiet of the woods. Consider a day at the beach while crossing off another day of work from the big list of how to move a whole household to the other end of the country again.

Breathe, Bridget.

I've had a little reprieve from Satan, who is away right now, a little relief that I didn't miss something I dearly wanted to see which will never happen now but that's a lot better than missing it while it takes place without me, and some incredibly tense moments with Ben recently. I've had to let some things go and stand my ground on others. I've had to roll with the punches and stand up and fight back.

Maybe it's all in a day's work. Maybe this is life. Maybe this is what Dalton calls the meat of your day, and we are all carnivores fighting over the same carcass. Maybe life is a cruel joke but I'm laughing. Maybe pigs fly and only Lochlan can see them because he's the crazy one. Maybe I'm not the worst flutterer in the bunch and maybe it does take a village to satisfy a Bridget.

You'll never know until you own one of course. Unfortunately there is only one and she isn't yours.

She belongs to them (points over to the table full of viking rock stars and laughs).

So don't touch, unless you are expressly invited. Stick around and you might be.

Not metal.

Drive out with the sun in your eyes
You wasted my time
It's true, it's true

My god, don't you hold out your hand
I called off my plans
I counted on you, on you

Got lost in the places I've been
I should go out with my friends
I'd go tonight but I know you'll be there too, there too

For me, this bottle of wine
Is to slow down my mind
And forget the things that I knew, I knew

And if you're ever left with any doubt
What you live with and what you'll do without
I'm only sorry that it took so long to figure out

I can totally picture Jacob singing songs by Band of Horses.

Not sure if that makes me very happy or really very sad.

So nice to see your face again
Tell me how long has it been
Since you've been here
(Since you've been here)
You look so different than before
You're still the person I adore
Frozen with fear
All out of love but I take it from the past
All out of words cause I'm sure it'll never last

I've been saving these last words for one last miracle
But now I'm not sure
I can't save you if you don't let me
You just get me like I've never been gotten before

Maybe it's a bitter wind
That chilled from the pacific rim
That brought you this way
(Brought you my way)
Do not make me think of him
The way he touched your fragile skin
That haunts me every day
I'm out of love but I can't forget the past
I'm out of words but I'm sure it'll never last

Rarely do I manage to be listening to music that holds the theme for my week. Usually they're completely unrelated but I bend them to my will. Usually my shortage of words results in an overabundance of emotions and actions that speak for me but this time we've hit the wall and god, did it ever hurt. Smashed into it face-first, lost a few teeth and came away with a bloodied nose and a bruised brow.

So if you need me I'll be in the corner nursing my wounds and my busted ego.

When I can't breathe, I make lists.

• Finding sea glass.
• watching the tide come in.
• cotton candy. Blue. Always blue.
• butterflies landing on the hood of my jacket.
• having a ring to twirl.
• chocolate chip cookie dough.
• sunset.
• lilacs and fresh cut grass.
• bubbles.
• the burn of saltwater on superficial wounds.
• Edward Gorey.
• music. Never turn it off or down.
• licking your fingers after ribs or corn on the cob.
• lobster and scallops, eaten with a silver fork, outdoors in the wind.
  
• new earrings.
• a book so good you can't put it down.
• rainstorms and sun showers.
• a light breeze.
  
• stacks of new fun mail.
• a hot cup of very good coffee.
• playing card games in wet bathing suits.
• Someone else making dinner.
  
• Holding a baby/helping the littles.
• A clean quilt on a freshly-made bed.
• driving down the highway with all the windows open.
• broken stained glass.
• a roaring fire on a cool night.
• frog songs.
• snoring dogs.
• sleepy men.
  
• bad pictures, taken in excitement.
• the audible cue of a key in the front door lock or roar of an approaching motorcycle/truck/boat.
• long uninvited hugs.
• peace.
• a deep breath.
• seedy carnivals.
  
• light tans.
• braids.
• a crossed-off list.
• I love you, said with a smile.
  

Stalemates. (Ha, NOT A PUN but should have been.)

I'm working up a sweat today. It's Monday, tomorrow will be four weeks since we moved in so I thought I would change all the beds, scrub all the bathrooms and generally scour the house once again from top to bottom. I think I bit off more than I can chew living here. It's a very very big house. Three times the size of the last one, I think. Add to that the five loads of laundry from skipping two days doing it and I've hardly had a moment. I'm upbeat, I'm busy and productive, I am healthy today. Or for now anyway.

Which is good, the boys are outside standing around in the rain arguing about exactly how much of a polyamoric, indulgent nightmare I have become and who is going to walk away from that first. I don't expect that they'll get anywhere and frankly, just to piss EVERYONE off I'm going to throw in here that an angry, passionate guy in soaking wet clothes is just about the best thing ever, and there's three of them out there.

Yes I said three.

Nevermind the ghosts, I don't think they count. Ghosts aren't affected by rain.

Morning glory.

I am the crisis
I am the bitter end
I'm gonna gun this down
I am divided
I am the razor edge
there is no easy now

The final birthday party was a smashing success and I'm done for a little bit. Until July, when Henry turns nine and we go to the fair and then have a cake and spaghetti fest here at home. That will be fun. Even with the wine. I had just enough wine for a light buzz and a complete eradication of any sort of anxiety or judgements leveled. Just enough wine to make sure everyone knew exactly what I think of their opinions and their feelings. Which is pure and total acceptance. It's a dance, you see, we have cards and it's very well-choreographed and the music never stops but thankfully it's only music I like so I feel at home. Music keeps Bridget's brain quiet, you see, and the strong arms that are always available keep the fluttering fingers to a minimum.

Everyone went home at a decent hour, and I cleaned up the kitchen while Ben tackled the rest of the house and then we emptied the time machine together, settled in to watch a movie with Lochlan and then went to bed late after spooking ourselves out with the total absolute stillness of the woods in front of the house, standing very still, listening to the creatures that were out there while we stood exposed in the light of the verandah, relative safety in the form of constructed dwellings versus the wild.

Snort.

Wine puts me out cold when I pass the buzz and work my way back to vaguely tired and dehydrated and so I was asleep in seconds after wondering who left the nightlight on in the big bathroom down the hall from our room. I woke up at five, pressed against the heat and covered in sweat and I turned onto my other side to press against the cold, dropping my body temperature back down to comfortable, pulling the quilts up over my shoulders, finding that perfect place for my head against Ben's chest and remaining there dozing hard until eight, when the dog pawed the bottom of the bed wanting his walk, and Bridget does the bright early morning walks while Ben does the scary dark night ones.

I climbed down to the bottom of the bed and found my clothes from the previous night and put them on, made a face, and the dog followed me all the way down to the front door where his leash hangs and we stepped out into a pretty nice day. Cool, and cloudy, quiet and still, save for the rolling of the gentle ocean waves under the fog.

Today the plans are for a day hike to another new waterfall and most likely a whole lot of fallout from the boys for writing about the things I do here because confirmations about certain aspects of my life within the collective are off limits, except after wine.

There is no wine today, however, and so the secrets once again go into my handbag to be carried around with my giant Toki Doki keyring and my blackberry. Have a good one.