(Lochlan doesn't want that memory left up there on top like that but I don't change my words unless it's a safety thing. He thinks it sounds so ominous that he wanted me to remain small forever. It isn't, I promise.)
So here's Sam instead. Barging into my peaceful weekend once again with his good friend Jesus. They each take a side, forcing me to my knees where I am made to remember who gave me this life.
(Technically the Devil, though I've learned not to say that out loud anymore.)
What are you in gratitude for this weekend, Bridget?
That pizza can be criticized as a choice instead of being a vehicle simply to assuage our hunger. That we can afford expensive jazzfest tickets and even parking to go. That my raspberries in the garden are ripe. That my children are healthy, happy, not hungry and spoiled even but that they still recognize their values lead the way. That the tires have air. That I get hugs and am loved. That we have more than five forks that match. That I found good music and can indulge in it as a welcome distraction. That the store had my favorite candy. That it rained. That it stopped raining. That we won a Fortnite match and went for a long humid walk. That Jake went to heaven and I'll see him again (THIS PART FEATURED MUCH CONVINCING ON THEIR PART LET ME TELL YOU FOR FREE). That I'm better today. That you love me.
Finally, I hit on something that soften's Sam's expression.
We all do, Bridge.
I know. He helps me back to my feet.
I swear you think up the strangest things to throw me off.
No, I just grab from whatever's happened in the past few days and remember the little things are as important sometimes, as stepping stones to larger things. It isn't always fireworks that impress, sometimes it's the sparks that leave you breathless.
Jake said that?
Loch did.
You shouldn't worship your friends, Bridge.
I'm not-
Good-
He's my life.
A sound from the doorway made us both turn and there's Lochlan, irritation fading from his expression at finding Sam grilling me to wonderment as my words hit home for him in the most joyful way.
Rhetoric? He breathes.
Not even, I confirm. The truth.
So here's Sam instead. Barging into my peaceful weekend once again with his good friend Jesus. They each take a side, forcing me to my knees where I am made to remember who gave me this life.
(Technically the Devil, though I've learned not to say that out loud anymore.)
What are you in gratitude for this weekend, Bridget?
That pizza can be criticized as a choice instead of being a vehicle simply to assuage our hunger. That we can afford expensive jazzfest tickets and even parking to go. That my raspberries in the garden are ripe. That my children are healthy, happy, not hungry and spoiled even but that they still recognize their values lead the way. That the tires have air. That I get hugs and am loved. That we have more than five forks that match. That I found good music and can indulge in it as a welcome distraction. That the store had my favorite candy. That it rained. That it stopped raining. That we won a Fortnite match and went for a long humid walk. That Jake went to heaven and I'll see him again (THIS PART FEATURED MUCH CONVINCING ON THEIR PART LET ME TELL YOU FOR FREE). That I'm better today. That you love me.
Finally, I hit on something that soften's Sam's expression.
We all do, Bridge.
I know. He helps me back to my feet.
I swear you think up the strangest things to throw me off.
No, I just grab from whatever's happened in the past few days and remember the little things are as important sometimes, as stepping stones to larger things. It isn't always fireworks that impress, sometimes it's the sparks that leave you breathless.
Jake said that?
Loch did.
You shouldn't worship your friends, Bridge.
I'm not-
Good-
He's my life.
A sound from the doorway made us both turn and there's Lochlan, irritation fading from his expression at finding Sam grilling me to wonderment as my words hit home for him in the most joyful way.
Rhetoric? He breathes.
Not even, I confirm. The truth.