Turn toward the ocean.*

(My apologies for brief drunken journalling. Pathetic is an easy, easy role for Bridget to slip into.)

We went to the beach Saturday. White sand and freshwater north of us on a pretty lake and that's where Jacob takes me when I want to see a lot of water. Like a fish or a mermaid in danger of perishing if she dries out. It's one of the places we run to now, having found it on an exploration drive one morning while we were staying at the cabin we used to borrow.

Jacob gave the kids some swimming lessons and then we ate lunch from the picnic basket and I turned onto my stomach to read and sunbath for ten minutes or so and the kids proceeded to bury Jacob in the sand. They squealed and howled with laughter as he kept pretending to sneeze and half come out of the pile they had made on him.

I turned onto my back and put the book down and closed my eyes for a minute.

There it was.

My imperfect perfect.

That was it. A belly full of potato chips and a cucumber sandwich, sand in my pop and a borrowed copy of The Husband to read. Pink toenails courtesy of Ruth and a flash of blue bikini as she ran past with a bucketful of water to throw on Jake, who is bronzed perfectly with a hint of pink, muscles etched like a Greek statue in his brown board shorts. The only time his beard looks uncomfortable or out of place is here but he keeps it because he knows I like it. Henry was busy beside me digging a Big Hole, he told me, and asked if there were any cookies left. Or maybe watermelon.

I heard Jake's cellphone ring and I picked it up and it was nothing more than a wrong number. A nice change on the weekend.

I sat up and decided a quick swim was in order and before I could step in the water Jacob ran over and scooped me up and ran straight out and dumped me in the surf. I felt warm skin and then ice cold water and I screamed into a laugh and he laughed too and pulled me back close to him.

A wet kiss and a huge smile.

Perfect.

We came home a bit early to seek shelter from the sun and make some supper and the kids were asleep before 8. Then Jacob made us an electric lemonade. The alcohol hit me rather quickly thanks to drinking it so fast and the large doses of drugs. My head spun and I flipped out. I figured he'd be mad. I didn't know what I thought. He made the damned drink for me.

I went outside to clear my head and stumbled into a chair. I drank water and tried to wait it out but I was upset and tired and not able to deal with it. After a few harsh words I decided I'd just go to bed, having ruined such a nice day. Jacob blamed himself and followed me, trying to get me to stop. I missed the top step and fell forward and he caught me and we collapsed in the upstairs hall in a clumsy embrace.

Where I realized I wasn't the only one who had too much sun and too much alcohol.

His hands were so rough. He flipped me over onto my stomach and pulled off my underwear and slid his hands down around my hips and I fought with him and wound up with my head pressed to the boards while he did what he wanted to do anyway. I didn't get into it until the bitter end and he gathered me up off the floor and managed to pull the quilt off the bed and we collapsed onto the sheets in a sober embrace, ruined and forgiven and exhausted, sunburned and spent. He fell asleep mid-apology, knowing I didn't fault him for his brief abrasiveness. He fell asleep with me locked in his arms the way he should and I didn't fault him for his possessiveness either.

Because I don't. I don't fault him for anything anymore.

Sunday morning began awfully early for the sunrise service in the park but Jacob was on a roll. I was right, he did miss sermonizing, but he says not enough to return except occasionally. I expect when he is older and retires from teaching he'll make a most spectacular return. Of course, thinking ahead he could also quickly turn his back on all kinds of conventional careers and become an adventure travel guide in China. Nothing would surprise me with Jake. Nothing. I've come to expect the unexpected.

We went out for breakfast and then returned to church for the late-morning smaller summer crowd and then the day was ours again and we headed out for our family climbing workshop. The kids had a blast this time, being a lot more familiar with their gear and the people.

I collected $120 in cash for my weight gain and endured all kinds of jokes about cake and running and taking money from friends. Ben made his exit until our neighborhood is snow-dusted and winter has us in an icy grip once again. PJ did indeed stay for supper and Jacob and I have spent a lot of time talking about boundaries and feelings and control and overrides and difficulties and pulling rank on each other and partnerships too.

He never would have let Caleb in the house save for him feeling as if I would think he was trying to control me and oh, what a lovely mess we have to sort out in therapy today. Being married to Jacob is like living with a control freak who makes a huge effort to not appear to be a control freak. He admits this freely.

It's one of the least of our worries but we persevere. We work on everything.

*(The title is nothing more than a charming set of directions I read this morning, in perusing the real estate listings. We're selling the cottage but not some of the land. I'll write more about it when I can do it in a less-homicidal fashion.)

Im not drunk and not even scared, not anymote. Becasye Jacob loves me

Ones and onlies.

Let's have a Saturday morning barometer and go from there, it's been requested, as have a few other points I need to clear out, talk about, whatever.

Here.

It's so awesome having the house full of kids again. I know, I know, two shouldn't make such a huge difference but it goes from empty to full and noisy in a heartbeat. My heartbeat. They keep talking about Caleb and sports cars and how he showed them pictures of daddy and told them stories about when Daddy was little like they are and wow, I'm right back to nodding and smiling and pretending it's fine and I want to scream that he's not a good person. In any event, they were given a lovely lesson on passwords and familiar strangers and we're working with them so they know it's not okay for him to show up and take off with them.

It kills me to realize his goal is achieved and I'm scared. He knows where they go to school.

I can't think about it anymore. Hopefully the imaginary safety net we've drawn around them will hold. I can't think he would ever harm them, but hey, let's count how many surprises I have had with people I thought were safe?

No, on second thought, let's not. Let's move on, instead.

The dreaded weight check is in. I'll be collecting my cash winnings all week. Never place a weight bet with a princess who counts cake among her favorite things. I'm at 111. Highest ever. Jacob has pointed out that my cheeks have filled in and my abdomen is rounded a little. Lovely. But don't laugh at me, Jacob has tipped 200. Which he's so not happy about.

Ben's stopping by later to say his official goodbyes. He's on the road officially as of Wednesday and has a lot to do. He'll be back shortly before Christmas but in the meantime he wants to see me again before he goes and I'm willing, I know it's strange. I can't explain. He's broken up with his girlfriend and moved out of their apartment. His stuff goes into storage here and at John's place and then he's going to start over when he comes back. Not sure if it was good timing or better planning but Ben is Ben and what the hell can I do with him?

PJ's stopping by too with some climbing gear he borrowed from Jake. Watch it coincide perfectly with a mealtime. We're climbing this weekend and I'm expecting to find it much less scary than I did last time thanks to that skydiving surprise in between. I'm looking forward to it, which never happens. Even though in the summer. Jacob. climbs. shirtless. and. wow.

And I live with the guy.

Church tomorrow is Jacob's turn in covering Sam's brief holidays while he can get them. I'm excited. I love watching Jacob preach, I know, I'm a broken record. This is a test to wait for him to say he missed it and watch him lean back toward toward the left a little. Wait for it.

Now, we're off to the beach.

Perfect imperfect.

Envy gets the best of me this morning as I read through the blog updates that greet me each day over coffee after Jacob goes off to putter around and I dive alone into the remainder of the coffee pot to float for a bit.

Everyone's lives are so....perfect. They go about their perfect days with their perfect lives. They can hear every leaf rustle and take time to breathe and play and read and go to the movies and laugh and travel.

Never did I wish for such an existence like I did this morning. Never did I want so fitfully for that mediocrity as I do right now. This morning I'm in tears reading of happy bumps in the roads of the people I have become so attached to and I wonder why the planet spun to chaotic when I had my turn to pull the lever.

Drama. I could throw it all away. As much as I refused to cause even the smallest ripple before, it seems as if the past two years have been nothing but and I'm ready to throw up. Caleb was maybe the last straw. I can't take any more.

I had tea with Joel last night. The professionals among us tend to crowd back in a little more to make sure I stay where I am. And honestly the barometer is changing little. I seem able to roll with the punches and bounce back more easily now. I haven't woken up screaming in a while, Jacob can leave the house now without wondering what he'll come back to. I seem to be able to wind around the lows instead of falling into them. The medication has leveled out, we've worked with it and monitored it and I take it every single day and it seems like a better life than whoever that dark girl was who moped her way through this life before.

The drama queen.

Now it's a magnet.

Fuck me.

Joel says I gave up control of my life and that's why this is allowed to continue. He says the last time I exerted any sort of control was when I left Cole and then I promptly threw it into Jacob's lap and Jacob refuses to wield it.

He's right to an extent.

No one's manning the fort here.

I should have told Caleb he couldn't come into my home. That I didn't appreciate the bait and switch, that based on what happened in Toronto and here even, I should have been notified that he was around.

I should have let gently go of my friends before they let go of me.

I should have paid closer attention to Jacob's weaknesses and difficulties. He hides things well for a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. He'll insist everything is great right up until the moment he falls apart. He hates that about himself and therefore even as the closest person in the world to him it's all I can do to drop everything and try to hang on when he goes down.

We'd like the every day quiet happiness but it doesn't seem to be playing out.

Do we thrive on catastrophe? Have I become the reluctant energy vampire? Oh Christ, cast me off now, because that sucks.

I barely get two paragraphs into a happy little post about our dog and life loudly demands that I write the good stuff. Only it isn't good stuff and I wish it would stop. Maybe this is my price for my choices. Instead of normal girl friends or couple friends I wind up with a dozen big brothers who want to get into my pants. Instead of finding my equals, I find soulmates in controlling (yeah, even Jake) men with hair-trigger fists and injustices to be righted.

I somehow find painful sex and vicious arguments and drop dead romance all at once. Or maybe that was vicious sex, painful romance and drop dead arguments. I'm no longer sure.

My bad habits are going to be my downfall. I've begun to bite my nails again. I twist my hair until it breaks. I dig my fingers into Jacob's hand until he shakes me off and swears at me and then pulls me in close by my neck and kisses my temples.

I never relax. There's no such thing as taking the tea out in the backyard and spending the evening doing nothing. I'm wound up. Hopped up and messed up. And everyone has the cure. From losing the more toxic friends and setting limits to more drugs, different drugs, street drugs if I'd like (I wouldn't like). A drink, no drinking, smoke a cigarette, don't start smoking, sleep less and go do something, sleep more and rest your pretty head. Take a trip, no more changes. Don't run, find an escape.

I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do anymore.

The worst thing is that all of it is tied into Jacob. When I left my implied-perfect little life for him everything went straight to hell. Brewing for a long time, this storm, and he didn't cause it. He kept me alive and there's no way to spell that out for anyone sufficiently.

Cole was slowly killing me. My death was planned. I wasn't sure if he would kill me before I would kill me but I was slated to die. I was miserable and frightened and Jacob knew and he tried everything and finally the threat of him moving on, of permanently giving up on me was enough and now fixing the mess I made by staying so goddamned long puts an unreasonable blame on him for a mess he never caused. A mess he would dearly love to fix and tries so hard it's inhuman that he cracks less frequently than he does. This grief has a stranglehold on both of us in completely different ways.

Last night, today, he's full of remorse. Usually punching someone in the head is quickly forgiven and instantly resolved. These are physical guys, they do this alot, but today Jacob is ashamed of his instincts and his urges to hurt another human being to the point of requiring medical intervention. He never goes that far. Neither one of us ever for a moment thought he'd be capable of that. Which is stupid. He's capable of whatever he wants.

Today he's fed up with his own temper and poor decision-making skills. It doesn't matter how many times he's told he did what he had to do. It was too late to unallow Caleb into the house. Jacob had no choice but he still did something he doesn't condone and he curses his superhuman strength. He still sees nothing but me in an emergency.

Save the Bridget, save the world.

Groundhog day.

It never changes. I think it's always Friday, and something has always just happened or is about to.

He just came through the kitchen to get some juice and asked me how I was doing and if I'd like to come sit outside for a spell in the gathering light, for a breather. For a prayer and a little soft hand holding and some reassurance that I'm not going to go crazy because he's holding onto me so tight nothing bad will ever get me, though they try.

I'm going. I won't relax, but I'm going.

Maybe tomorrow will be perfect. This is what faith is to me now. Taking each day and hoping to make it better.

Bridget and the big bad wolf.

Ruth and Henry arrived safely yesterday late in the afternoon, tired and grumpy and full of stories and logical arguments on why they could now stay up until 10 pm, drink full bottles of lemonade (One for each, mommy!) and wear their shoes in the house.

Cole's parents were always the most permissive people I have ever met. So permissive that instead of grandma flying back with them and spending a day or two here as we planned, they were easily talked into a different plan.

One I knew nothing about until I saw my brother in law walk through the gate with my children.

Jacob had a colorful response to that sight.

Oh ye got to be kiddin' the fuck right outter us.

From the top of the escalator Caleb shot me a smug warning look over Ruth's head that basically said Control the giant. Your children are watching us.
Jacob had other plans and went right to the gate and grabbed the kids up in a hug and quietly told Caleb to turn around and go back into whatever hole he crawled out of. Caleb smiled in his cocky way and loudly pointed out that Ruth and Henry wanted him to stay for dinner tonight as a last supper since they had all had so much fun back home at the beach.

He enjoys twisting Jacob's screws. That or he has a deathwish.

Caleb isn't dumb, though sitting at my dinner table protected by children's ideals since that was the only thing keeping Jacob from hammering him into the ground headfirst I was beginning to have my doubts.

He was smart enough to keep the focus on the kids and then Jacob took them up to get them into bed, they were so exhausted from a long travel day. I couldn't leave Caleb alone with Jake and Jake didn't want to leave me alone with Caleb but I was the lesser evil and so he went up, reluctantly.

The kids are doing really well, Bridge. I'm impressed. They're just about seasoned travelers now.

Thanks. Next time you want to spend time with them check with me first, please.

The folks had a good handle on it and I love to spend time with family. They're my blood, they're all I have left of my brother.

Me too, so please don't put them in the middle.

In the middle of what? It was harmless fun and I brought them back to save mom the trip.

You're messing with my head, Caleb.

Your little head is already profoundly messed up, Bridget.

Leave, please.

I think we should talk.

About what?

About you removing the drug mentions from your diary and writing an apology to me there. I don't do drugs.

There were drugs all over your apartment.

Really? Prove it. Prove they were mine, even.

I don't have to prove it. I saw them and we got the hell out.

Take it down.

Fine. But it doesn't make you any less of an asshole.

(I edited while he stood over me. He knows people. He is people.)

Remember what I told you about one-sided stories?

Are you going to threaten to sue me again?

What if I hadn't brought them home, Bridge? What if I had taken the kids somewhere else?
He reached out and stroked my cheek.

I looked up into his eyes, at his beautiful face, so much like Cole's. I wasn't going to just sit there and be told that I would now live in fear again. Something in my brain snapped. I went at him with plans to scratch his eyes blind and Caleb caught me and bent my arms back until I cried for him to let go when my elbow gave out. He didn't let go. I was on the floor and he wouldn't let go.

Jacob made him let go.

Jacob put Caleb in the hospital.

Caleb, who rarely had the time of day for me unless I could travel with him and spent little time with us when Cole was alive who suddenly seems to have such high stakes in this family since Cole's death and I can't understand it. I curse every encounter I've ever had with him, at this point.

And I wonder when I look at the children, exactly which awful traits they inherited from their father's side and which ones they're going to get from me.

It got chalked up today as a 'resolved' domestic dispute. Jacob was warned that his idea of self defense was harsh but warranted, as he perceived a threat to me. Caleb will be or has been instructed to stay away from all of us and I from him. Because I know better. Somehow I keep thinking he has to be a part of their lives, but he doesn't. He isn't and he won't be anymore. The bridge is now burned. Destruction of it comes in the form of an order of protection.

Again.

I'm okay today really. Mood stabilizers are lovely things. Empathetic police officers are lovely too. Understanding grandparents are even better.

Libel (OH hi Caleb.)

Under threat of legal action, I've been forced to edit a couple of entries here. Long story which will probably end violently if I'm lucky.

I've also been asked to write a public apology and I'm only thinking about it, since under the circumstances I highly doubt I'm the one who's causing the most trouble right now.

Proving them right.

(In one post I'm going to expose Ben for the whole internet to see. The cross-dressing, bagpipe-playing, serial destroyer of his own perfectly good relationships Ben. Who still retains his cool, since he's going on tour now and all that. Oh, at the same time I'll expose myself as the dysfunctional needy damsel in distress I freely admit to being.)

Ben's off to fulfill his dreams for a few months. Some of you are aware that his day job is not his real job, it just pays for his wishes. I won't say any more than that to protect his privacy. He'll be back before Christmas.

You moving in?

Nope, Bridge, just returning some stuff I've hung on to for a bit.

Oh, I see.

Inside the box were random golf clubs that I didn't know belonged to us, some books, a few CDs and Cole's bagpipes. There were also a bunch of pictures of me and one of Jacob's bulletins that had our marriage announcement printed in it. A sweater I thought I lost at the fair.

Ben, none of this stuff has to come back. You can keep it.

No, Bridge, it has to go. These are your things.

You can have them.

I don't want them. Oh, geez, Bridge. Maybe I need to get your stuff out so I can get you out.

Of your head?

Of my life.

Wow. Way to make a girl feel good.

That's just it, Bridget. We've sponged off your generosity far too long and we have too big a say in your choices. The only way to let go of our ownership over you is to let go of you.

Oh. PJ got to you?

Nope.

Oh, please don't say Jacob is doing this.

No, it isn't Jake and it isn't PJ. We've all talked and we're not good for you anymore. I was never good for you anyway. You're doing so well and we just want to see that continue without any of the bullshit.

You're my friend, Benjamin.

Hey, I'll always be your friend. I'll just be around less. Going to be gone most of the fall anyway.

What about the kids?

They're going to be in school all day, Bridget. I'll still see them when I'm back. You still have to invite me for the occasional dinner. I just can't be here all the time and be around. You guys need some space so you can have a real chance.

So Jacob starts his job in a bit and you leave and everyone else disappears and I'm left alone?

(sweet panic follows)

(big hug follows)

Don't guilt me.

Don't abandon me, Benny.

I'm not abandoning you, Bridget. Jake isn't Cole. He doesn't like having everyone around all the time. And you, you need downtime, and quiet time and time to get used to being with him. Watching you two together is excruciating. I mean you waited so long to be together and now that you are, you should be happier together but instead you're both wound up and miserable and stuck in some sort of frozen state in which you can't accept that it's okay for you to be together. You guys need time, Bridget. Time to get to know each other. Without all of us sabotaging you.

I know.

Good.

So can't we do it without the dramatic farewells and creepily mature conversations?

Yeah. I could put this box down and throw you in the kiddie pool.

Hearing aids, Ben.

Oh yeah. Dammit. Okay, how about another hug? A friend hug, nothing weird.

Please, Ben, everything is weird with you.

Bring it, princess.

You got it, Tucker.

My God, this is hard. I was all cool about it until you turned those Bambi eyes on me.

Who are you doing this for again?

For all of us, Bridge. Maybe leaving is the only way I can really leave you and the giant alone. The guy deserves a real chance and he isn't getting it this way. That's something we call can agree on. If I had my way I'd throw you over my shoulder and run off, caveman style. But seriously, you and Jake, man, it's sweet and it needs a chance to play out. Take it and be happy. He's good for you. He'll be good to you. Or we'll kill him. There will be no more Coles in your life.

You'll kill him? Good luck with that.

Okay, maybe we could all attempt to knock him down.

Then what?

Run away while he's getting back up?

Right.

Love you, Bridget. Go be happy. I'm sorry I ever tried to mess with you.

Trying my best, here. Love you too. Fucking idiot. Go find a girl to fuck.

Oh trust me. I'm working on it.

It's about time, Ben. Find one that sticks. Not in a gross way though.

Shut up already, Bridget.

K.
Didn't I tell you? They're all going to make their excuses now and cast me off. It'll probably be the best thing they ever do.

Jacob's response?

Ah! The old agony bags, I thought they were long gone. Maybe I should learn to play.

Sweet mother of God.

Kids are back this afternoon. I'm bouncing off the walls.

He's savvy enough no to figure out the RSS feeds.

Esoteric, insane. Ignore, please.

An easy answer and she didn't even have to spell out a question for it to come flooding in via a giant blonde man walking purposefully from one end of one floor of the house to the other end of a different floor of the house where he found his tiny wife, still typing like a madwoman and having a hard time figuring out why she can't latch on to the simplest of facts anymore. Because she forced him to watch as she was broken by someone else, someone she couldn't even let go of until she was forced to choose. And maybe as much as she is grateful for that she knows that she also blames him for that.

The weaker she became, the more power she held in her helplessness. Everyone loves her fragility. It brings out who they are and it protects who she used to be.

The similarity is love, passion for you, Bridget, and the difference is that you traded the sadism for affection. Because now you finally know that there's a difference.

Resemblances past and battles won with silence.

(A comparison I never made and never wanted to, and a memory I'd like to keep, even if I shouldn't. It's a piece of my soul and everyone wants it, so here. Jacob wants me to deal with this because I steadfastly refuse to and it's holding him up. I'll apologize for the three-way conversation in advance.)

    If I had to
    I would put myself right beside you
    So let me ask
    Would you like that?
    Would you like that?
Looking around at my friends, they're all intimate in some way, they're all alike, I can predict what they will say, what they'll pick to eat or do, how they'll feel. They found each other through similar interests-music, death defying sports, Cole, me. Sought out because these guys love to be in close vicinity to Bridget's sweet smile and long blonde hair, especially if she'll feed you. Food to your belly and thoughts for your soul.

I love men who are athletic, artistic, emotional, affectionate, muscular, musically inclined and medievally minded. Which I'm not explaining today.

So it stands as slight surprise that Cole and Jacob were alot alike, despite the fact that they were polar opposites.

Possibly.

Cole had dark brown hair, dark brown beard, usually a goatee, dark blue eyes, he always wore black t-shirts and black or blue jeans. The dark ringer for Trey Anastasio.

Jacob has white blonde hair, a blonde beard, eyes so light blue they're just about white, he lives in white shirts and paler jeans or cords, dimples and a drop-dead beautifully amused smile that makes him look just like a young Redford.

Attitude-wise they were both tensely laid-back, mellow but quick to anger, kind but cutting.

And that's where it stops. They liked different foods, different drinks, Jacob likes alcohol once in a blue moon but it ruins him, Cole could drink anything regularly and it never phased him. They spoke the same language. They both played guitar, only Cole very rarely sang, while Jacob never stops singing. Loud. He has no shame. Cole was too shy for that.

They both loved people around but Jacob likes to stick to the phone once he's home for the day or night.

I said they spoke the same language. I wasn't kidding. The night I left him, Cole came home to find Jacob blocking his path into the kitchen, where I was sitting in terror of his arrival. Shaking so hard in fear that Jacob was disgusted. He expected a war, at that point.

What's up, Preacher Boy?

She's mine, Brother.

Take her and go, then. Have fun, baby girl.

No, Cole, she's not coming back to you.
Cole stared at Jake without saying anything, the cockiness leaving his eyes, flowing out visibly as it dawned on him that Jake was right. From that point on he ignored Jacob's presence.

Bridge, baby, what have you done?

He wrenched Jacob's arm out of the way and kneeled in front of where I sat at the table.

We're done. We're finished, Cole.

What have you done?

Do you have a place you can stay?

He put his hands up to his face, I flinched and Jacob tensed up but Cole simply rocked back on his heels and then laughed, sadly.

The kids...

Jacob cut him off.

We'll sort out the details later, tonight she wants you out. Fair?

It isn't fair, Bridget.

No, it isn't.

You reap what you sow, Cole.
Don't you say that to me, Preacher. You've been trying to steal my wife since you met her.

I love her.

SO DO I!

You hurt her.

What did you say to him, Bridget?

Nothing. I said nothing.

SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO SAY ANYTHING. My God, do you think we're blind?

I never-

Exactly. Just go, we'll talk tomorrow.

I'm not talking to you. You're a fucking thief.

Cole.

What, baby? Anything.

Go. Please.

He stared at me for what felt like hours and then he stood up slowly and turned, heading upstairs. I heard him go into each child's room, knowing he would kiss them as they slept, oblivious to the change about to happen in their lives and then he threw some clothes into a bag and came back down. He stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at me. I would have run to him right then but Jacob was holding my hand. He looked at our hands and turned and left. Slamming the door behind him and then the car door and then I waited for the sound of screeching tires but it never came.

I turned around and asked Jacob to leave. He was incredulous but accommodating.

You can't be here right now.

I know. But if he comes back-

We both know he won't come back tonight.

Bridget, I don't want to leave you alo-

Please just go, Jacob.
The difference between them is Jacob never listens to me either. (Thinkfastdearreader) He didn't go. He decided he should stay and tried to overrule me, instantly overstepping boundaries and claiming ownership and I moved those boundaries closer still and threw him out anyway and he went home after a kiss. After a long kiss I already wrote about here.

I still maintain he probably slept on the front lawn or in the tree house so that he would be close by but he says he walked down to the church for a bit and then went home and slept fitfully.

Someone asked me the other day if I would do it all again knowing what I know now. I would but there would have been a lot of things I would have done differently too. I just don't really know what they are yet.

Delusions of grandeur.

If you ever thought things were perfect, that the universe smooths itself out and everything is suddenly right again and I was under a lucky star, you'd be mistaken.

I'm just trying to keep up with things, with what I want to talk about or what I plan to deal with first, or how I've been steered. It's all right here, there's too many words, it won't make any sense if I rush.

Our anniversary was capped with a trip to the planetarium and then a lovely late romantic dinner at the devastatingly exclusive revolving restaurant that spins slowly above the city lights. It was the completion of my sky gift. It ended a week we began on the floor in the back porch painting the moon and stars on our mural with glow in the dark paint so that the kids will be surprised when they come home on Wednesday.

And then we went to bed to celebrate some more and I pushed him too far and he walked away and hit something and I slid a little farther away down into a hole. He came back full of apologies but he never bothered to stop whispering so I could hear him from that hole.

It's okay. I'll get out of it someday. I don't know when. I can't see where his limits end and mine begin. He says I have none. I have them, he just doesn't understand the difference between a good hurt and a bad one, but I think he is ashamed of me anyway.

He's burning pages before I can write on them now, tearing them out. Such a hurry, always.

Hush, Bridget. Not like that.

But I want it this way.

No...no, you don't.