John is here today. The longer his hair gets the more he looks like Zakk Wilde. We're making coffee and fried green tomato sandwiches and he and Ben have huge, huge plans to tinker with their motorcycles this afternoon. John's bike being the one I sold to him after Jacob died because I couldn't look at it anymore and surprise, I've had two rides on it already this week. And none on Ben's because he just doesn't feel like he's ready to ride quite yet, which is fine too. Ben keeps saying it's too cold and he's right but it's hard to resist the lure of two wheels after so many months of snow tires and so they brought his bike back when the others took their bikes out of storage (at Nolan's) shortly before Ben came home. I think he was grateful for that. It's hard to tell. He keeps lapsing into very quiet hours and then he'll just start talking and he doesn't stop for a long time and just when you're ready to tell him to stuff it, he gets quiet again.
I don't mind. I'm still just happy he's home and things are steadily getting better, inch by mile. He told Lochlan it was time to go last night and this morning before I could swim through that second cup of coffee, Lochlan was gone. There were no harsh words or upended tables or hammer punches thrown, just another example of a quiet acceptance of our weird communal life and how well it seems to work when everyone remembers their place, when everyone helps everyone else, when everyone has the presence of mind to put their own wants aside for the good of someone they love.
I just don't think I have ever seen us all do it at the same time before.
Maybe things are changing.
Tea is ready. Must go take a tray out to the garage and get a lesson in replacing fork oil.
