Running out of time.

It is an extraordinary feeling to wait in the darkness, as people did so long ago, for the longest night of the year to end.

Indeed.

If you're so inclined to count days like I do, this may interest you: there's a live webcast of the solstice at Newgrange in Ireland takes place tomorrow and Saturday morning as well.

I'll be watching. Since there won't be any solstice parties for me this year. How about you?

It's PJ's day and in between his ridiculous (and yet probable) plans to rule the world without ever moving out of his mother's house and the chocolate pie that he's determined to eat all of despite being told it's for dessert, my face hurts from smiling. Until I remember that I am, in fact, smiling and then my face falls and the clouds roll back in.

Therapy went very well, thanks for asking.

PJ also wanted to talk today. Everyone has gotten rid of their gruff, strong exteriors and have opened up quite lovingly. PJ wanted to talk about my plans and Jacob's plans and my plans for Jacob's plans and whether or not I wanted to run screaming from the room before or after his input.

His input surprised me. No one surprises me anymore. I think Jake pulled off the ultimate surprise and then some and I bet it was difficult. Though I think I loved and hated Cole an equal amount and would have wrapped my arms around him for a kiss all the while sticking a knife into his back had I had the strength.

Whatever. I don't deal with that. I don't think about anything save for missing Jacob. Oh and his convoluted, generous and incredibly hypocritical instructions for me in his absence. I wish I could say more, I just can't. I'm an incredibly slow learner when it comes to writing about things first when I should be going to people and telling them first instead. I think about that constantly.

This is about the elephant Jacob left for me.

PJ, always the last hold-out, has surprisingly given his blessing.

If you knew PJ, he's incredibly stoic in between the bites of pie. He takes nothing lightly, absolutely nothing. He's conservative and hesitant and thorough. He's the naysayer, the voice of caution in all things. You don't fuck with PJ. He'll tear you down and leave you bleeding. He's never wrong. He's never one to be impulsive. He won't impulsively choose an ice-cream flavor at the drive-in.

And he said Go for it.

The weirdest part is, I never asked for input and they all came and gave it anyway.

And I am all talked out today.

    I know you well.
    you are a part of me.
    I know you better than I know myself.
    I know you best,
    better than anyone.
    I know you better than I know myself.

The expected reception.

(This is an entry about courage. And elephants.)

I knocked on the door of his apartment and it opened before my hand fell to my side.

He was so happy to see me. He put his arms out and made a noise like a sob and then took me into a tight hold against him and rocked and rocked in the conclusion of some sort of chronic agony. He took my face in his hands, burning my hair with his cigarette and I asked him to put it down. He laughed and his eyes were glassy but the smile didn't leave his face even once.

It didn't leave his face as he offered me his last cigarette. I said no and reminded him he quit and he swore softly. He kissed me. Seventeen times. He couldn't sit still, he wouldn't shut up, he wouldn't listen to me when I told him why I was there.

He knew why I was there.

He had been wearing the same jeans for four days now. His boots were scuffed, his hair messed up, and he hadn't shaved at all recently. His eyes darted all over me and back again as he rubbed his face and then stood back up. He hadn't slept.

The kids.

They're with Chris.

You're really here. Jesus, Bridge. What have we been through?

Hell disguised as heaven, Benjamin.

Are you okay?

I will be.

I am learning that I can exist in a place where I can be with someone and feel nothing except companionship and safety and a very gentle sort of love and sometimes it's enough for me. For him it's enough too, it's enough that he has a place in my life neither of us thought he would ever fit into and I'm grateful that he is here for me. I'm grateful that he doesn't ask for more. I may never have more to give him but he'll still be here with me. Like he always is, no matter how hard I've tried to get rid of him and how much I always wanted him back.

Jacob asked me to do this in his letter and I fought so hard against it. I didn't understand it for a very long time, but I think I do now.

There are a lot of people out there who won't agree with this. Maybe the ones who have never met Bridget or Ben or even Jacob who will pass judgement without fully understanding this. I'm not looking for a replacement father for the kids. I'm not looking for a rebound guy to fill the giant hole left by Jacob. Ben is well aware that I don't love him like that, that my heart no longer exists and my every thought is consumed with memories and jabs of pain. He is well-aware that he is following in the footsteps of the greatest love ever and we're both aware that we could end our friendship if things don't go well. It's a risk we're both willing to take. A slow-moving risk, kind of like skiing away from a creeping avalanche.

An adventure embarked on by two grownups who are alone and don't want to be. It's a let's see how it goes, let's see if there's something there after all plan that doesn't include us going away for Christmas, I have decided to stay here. It doesn't involve us jumping into bed either. Because we don't need to. My ridiculous need for affection is well-supplied and frankly I'm not ready to be touched by someone else so overall very little will change for now.

For now.

Don't make me wait ten years for your heart, little bee.

Vegan heroes.

August is here. He's going to be the Official Nightkeeper of All Things Fragile and Princessy. I told him it's a bad plan, since every time he says a single word or walks through a room I am reminded of Jake. He is fair, with a beard and a lot of corduroy and hemp clothing on, he's wearing a simple strand of wooden beads and vegan shoes and everything that comes out of his mouth is colorful Americanized Newfiespeak.

I was gifted a few sleeping pills at the pharmacy this afternoon with instructions to go the hell to bed and sleep and I won't do it unless there is someone here who can be alert for the children, in case of an emergency.

No, I meant like fire or a flood or something. Or a nightmare. Or yes, a fragile and princessy moment, but I'm attempting to keep those to a bare minimum.

By not being awake for them.

Wish me luck.

Safer places.

(Hi. Crazy disclaimer. Proceed at your own risk. Words with musical accompaniment today. Enjoy.)

Where do you go to get away from ghosts?

    Bye, bye, it's been a sweet love.
    Though this feeling I can't change.
    But please don't take it badly,
    because Lord knows I'm to blame.
    But if I stay here with you girl,
    Things just couldn't be the same.
    Cause I'm as free as a bird now,
    And this bird you'll never change.

I missed one appointment and a dozen calls. The song was on repeat and turned up so loud in my headphones that when Joel finally found me at 6:17 am still sitting on the floor of the pantry that Jacob built and finished (A place for everything, he said), he came inside, shut the door, squeezed in beside me and started talking but I couldn't hear him at all. He could hear the music easily.

I was sitting and listening and rocking and crying and shaking and not being strong enough for fuck all.

Last night Ruth began to cry. Huge tears rolling down her face, she admitted she missed Jacob so bad but she didn't tell me because she didn't want me to get upset and leave again. I rocked her for hours until she fell asleep and my arms and my head ached. I went through the motions of strength and togetherness and somewhere after that I realized that the hugs I get are sanctioned but they aren't the same. There's no one here to be strong for me and why not and it isn't fair.

I knew when I put the song on that it would hurt. Jacob sang that song so much it became his calling card and I knew it would hurt. I wanted to see how much I could make it hurt and I didn't get so far before a battle began to take shape inside my head. The masochist versus the crazy girl who won't remember Jacob at all because she's too weak. That masochist likes it. She likes to hurt, she likes to take risks, she'll chew you up and spit you out. She is alone but she pulls the weakling around by the throat. It must look very comical.

Joel made a move to get up and I grabbed his hand and he paused and looked at me and then sat back down. He sat beside me until it got very light out around the edges of the door and when the song ended next he took my hand and squeezed it and then reached up and opened the door of the pantry. He got up and led me out into the kitchen and PJ and Ben and Chris were sitting there reading the paper in sections and drinking coffee.

For a few moments I was very scared that Joel was going to surprise me with another needle, another trip, another long stay away from everyone I love but he didn't. He told me they didn't have to do that unless I started screaming again. That's when they know I can't process another breath. He said I was simply moving to a new stage of grief and there can be nothing better than acknowledging Jacob's life and admitting I miss him. He said with time it will hurt less the more I do it.

I said I wanted it to hurt the same, because I don't want to get over him.

He nodded and gave me a quick squeeze and left for work. Ben got up and came over and put his arms around me and told me he brought duct tape and he can patch holes but he can't fix them and that I am loved. That I'm not alone. That he's so fucking tired from staring at the pantry all night and now he's going to work and I owe him SuperBig. I started to laugh and then cry again and he looked down and said he'd come back right after work if I wanted and that he was sorry for the shitty things he said to me. I didn't say anything and his frustration flashed and then he quashed it and kissed the top of my head and left.

PJ went and woke up the kids to get them organized for school and Chris told me to go get some sleep. That I should talk to Ben. That I didn't have to hide in a closet to be sad, that I didn't need to hide at all and that he was headed to the guest room to crash for a few hours and I could either curl up with him or go upstairs to my room and sleep but he didn't want to hear a peep until at least 2 pm.

I nodded and came upstairs but I can't sleep. I don't want to take anything. I'm worn out. Why can't I just sleep? I'm soon going to have to post warning signs in front of my face so people don't fall into the sunken black holes that pass for the beautiful green eyes I used to have.

And so they know that I've managed to take the person I gave all my love to and reduce him to a 9 minute anthem from 1973, the world's most perfect song.

Jacob would be so proud.

I hate the nights. If I stay up and just sit and type or read, would you be here? Would you stay with me?

Of course not. No one can. No one knows what this is like, no one could possibly fix this hole, it's on the inside and you can't see how huge it really is.

The love lives of the rich and famous.

Christian and I cleaned the whole house this morning. He played DJ and floor washer and I scrubbed woodwork and glass until my hand hurt too much and now the house shines. I'm just about ready for Christmas. I sent boxes of presents home to Nova Scotia and I have to figure out Christmas day (argh) and all that was left was to give the guys their presents otherwise.

Which were supposed to be surprises. (No worries, they were.)

Actually they were double-surprises. I gave them all adopted polar bears and the bike loan payouts were going to be random surprises discovered later on when their final payout confirmation statements came in the mail a week or two from now. I was trying to be sneaky.

Because they have gone so far above and beyond their friendship duties. They've let me spend hours crying on their shoulders and in their arms. I simply wanted to make their lives easier, the same way they've made mine easier. It goes both ways. I never wanted for much and financially I could do it and so I did.

My guys are touched to the point of adulation. I'd like to beat them all senseless.

Nothing. ever. changes. I love them all, so much.

Chris also asked me to help him go though matches he received from an online dating site he's trying out. I had three major feelings. One, God bless his heart, he's a huge catch and shouldn't have to venture into the unknowns of online hookups. Two, he needs this so bad. He's tired of being alone, tired of not having someone to call his own and not having much luck.

And three, that I can't be involved in any aspect of who he chooses to connect with. Only because between crushes and weird friendships and me being far too important to my friends to the point of their isolation from possible romantic encounters I need to step away from any sort of advice or input when it comes to him breaking away a little and finding his own happiness.

I can see what being tied to someone's approval and expectations gets. How it feels and it isn't fair to anyone and I have my fingers crossed so hard for Christian it's painful. He laughed and told me to not get my hopes up, and I was just happy he confided at all. I'd like us to find a nice line to draw somewhere that would be comfortable and keep him from having his life further messed up on account of me.

It kind of stings a little too. I didn't cause this but I became the cause of all of this and they won't let go any more than I will because too much time means we're too close and too selfish and too old to begin again and maybe we can take what we've got as friends and reshape it enough to let it flourish without suffocating anyone involved. I would love to have a group of friends that included a few girls that took the pressure off me being the center of the universe.

I know. I complain about things others might kill for. This isn't for me, this is for them. I love them so much, and so I'm trying to let them go (okay, but just a little). I want them all to be happy. I want to sign PJ up for this site so much now. Christian is still laughing about that.

It's a nice hope to find in the midst of polishing silver candlesticks and washing down baseboards. The thought that maybe Chris, PJ, Joel and Mark, even August could find loves to call their own, love for love's sake, on their terms, in their lives. Loch is doing it (look- I can be happy for him! Who knew?), they can too, right?

I have so much to look forward to today.

Metal for breakfast.

Well, shit.

Proving how really immature we are, Ben and I just wrapped up yet another blisteringly painful and uncharacteristically loud phone call in which he said cruelly that I was impossible to love but under his skin so far he wished at this point that he had never met me.

I saw his wager and raised him one, pointing out that he was going to sound very fucking ungrateful when he discovered that as his Christmas present I had paid off the loan for his brand new Victory motorcycle. The very same loan that he otherwise would have paid off somewhere around his forty-fifth birthday.

I think I won that round. Or maybe I didn't.

(*The title is an inside joke for the boys, who always say they have metal for breakfast when they ride their bikes to work and then get coffee there.)

Ownership issues.

In a nutshell, I'm too tired and too busy to still be dealing with this.

Ruth is doing better, she's mostly napping and munching on toast. Henry decided he was sick too until Joel came over with a remote control snowmobile to play with in the snow in the backyard. The boys are now out there making Butterfield go crazy.

I'm tired. Did I mention I was tired?

Too tired for Ben to be jealous that Joel is here, seeing as how today is a day off for Joel, just like Ben had Friday through Sunday off and I am lucky that everyone wants to spend their days off with us instead of somewhere fun. Not good enough for Ben, who tried to pull rank talking about the trip to Canmore and made too many assumptions and said some shitty things about Joel and I asked him to stop, I asked so quietly just for him to not go there for once and yeah well, it wouldn't be a new week if Ben and I could ever be on speaking terms for more than a few days at a time.

Especially since I already told him I didn't think we were going to join him for anti-Christmas. Not because I have issues with it but because everyone else seems to.

I need sleep. Sleep and peace of mind, a couple of healthy kids and a magic potion for curing imaginary jealousy. In a gallon spray bottle, if you will.

More elephants you won't appreciate.

Flutters brought on largely by the little pink pills in particular, counted in their measure of the concentrations in my blood at any given moment, spilled and numbered like golden coins and a pat on the head and three more days of expected compliance to the pharmacy gods until the next test.

Emotions drawn out and dissected and balled up and stuffed back inside at the end of ninety minutes, as if they've somehow been improved, when really it's the equivalent of going to the Gap and shaking out every sweater in a neatly folded pile and not quite folding them again as you return them to the shelf. It's effective, but it looks like shit.

Watchful, kind eyes that wouldn't know a sign or a trick if it lit their ass on fire hoping just to make it through a shift without incident, nights punctuated in a huge sigh of relief that makes me fill with shame at what edge they must live on.

Fragility instilled through love, crafted into a tangible flaw that is now woven into my very core. The one thing I can't shake. The one thing I'm told they will never see me without. My shadow. Handle with care, but if you shake me you hear the broken glass inside. Maybe it's too late.

One single plea to let it go. To forget time, to forget history, to forget who we're supposed to be and just be. Without pink pills or therapy or supervised free time or baggage or any other goddamn thing. Just let it go. Just for one moment. Just breathe in the cold air. Just close your eyes.

Just get picked up and dunked into the deep snow on the front lawn. Headfirst.

Maybe it was necessary and it had the desired effect. It broke the ice I keep frozen around my soul and it led to a heart to heart talk that contained the one biggest conversation we haven't really ever had.

The Apology Conversation. The one that's required for Ben to eradicate his inner demons, become a better person and deepen our friendship back to the way it used to be. He is obviously in the lead here. He's surprisingly had this conversation with everyone except for me, because I scare the living daylights out of him. Anyone who tells you I am intimidating has to be lying but I somehow understand.

But last night gave him courage and he just started blurting things out. Excuses and then retractions and then more excuses and finally it came pouring out in a muddle of I'm sorries and I love yous that had me sitting quietly for a moment playing it all back hoping I had heard it properly.

And then I looked up at him, I looked at him sitting there shaking like a leaf, pale and somber, uncharacteristic, looking less like the frat boy I've had such fun with and more like a man who is trying to straighten up his life and I smiled at him. I told him I forgave him and I know how hard he has worked to attend his meetings and be clean and fight his way back into my good graces and win back my trust.

He has my emotional trust but it all hinges on physical trust. Something he had in spades once, a long time ago when he helped me change my clothes around a sling and so many broken bones but something that vanished the night he got drunk and came looking for me. Something we have worked to build back and something he won't ever mess with again. I have to trust him in order to spend any time with him. He stands just a little bit shy of Jacob's height, one of the reasons he wasn't afraid of Jacob and would go down fighting any time. Except Ben doesn't have the same grace. Ben is all elbows and shoulderblades and cheekbones and flashing eyes and inexcusable energies. Ben is dark. Ben is passionate about all the wrong things and always overstepping his boundaries, and so his size makes him a threat by default. Or it did anyway. It doesn't anymore. Whatever desperation, whatever place in his head he existed through last year is gone now, never to return.

He's a lot like me. Flawed. Making mistakes but refusing to be crushed by them. Maybe he's my best friend now at last, maybe he always was, maybe it wasn't Cole that he had so much in common with. Maybe he's smart enough to backpedal and ease off and disappear at the perfect moment when we're too close and too familiar and too grateful for the company close at hand. He's not the bad guy. He's my friend. It's too easy for me to dump on him. If you don't know him in person you might hate him and that's not fair.

After that conversation, an offer for him to stay the night in the guest room (still! with the LOCKED DOOR at the end of the hall for those of you who think I'm awful and am doing things I shouldn't be) was on the tip of my tongue but he got up, grabbed his coat and scarf and then grabbed me in a hug and said he had a very good day and he felt better than he had in a very long time and he was happy to have a fresh start with me.

And he went the hell home.

Just like a good elephant should.

Of course it won't make sense. Ruth has been up throwing up now since midnight and is finally asleep again. I have four loads of laundry and a long day ahead of me. I'm allowed to not make sense.

Leave us alone.

I almost made it to church today. I knew it was a mistake but part of me wanted to go and I got as far as the side door of the building when a reporter appeared out of nowhere and kindly asked how I was doing. I thought maybe he was just a friend of Sam, to be so familiar, until I realized his hand was holding a recorder. Ben gave him a shove and asked him what his problem was and tried to block him but I had already turned, taking the kids and going back down the steps back to the truck. I could hear Sam calling out to me and I didn't turn around and I could feel a hundred eyes on me so I didn't look. I just got back in the truck and belted the kids because they can't manage with mittens on and then I got into the front and locked the doors and drove home, pulling the truck into the garage and sitting there, with the kids asking if we were going to find a new church or maybe can we go inside the house now and I didn't move until Ben pulled on the door handle and pounded on the window, asking me to open the door.

Too tired for this. I can't deal with this.