Personal Jesus and the boomerang girl.

(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. 

Eight and thirteen (in the very beginning).

She brings the sunshine to a rainy afternoon;
She puts the sweetness in, stirs it with a spoon.
She watches for my moods, never brings me down;
She puts the sweetness in, all around.
She knows just what to say to make me feel so good inside.
And when I'm all alone I really don't feel that way.
Oh how I need her so,
I know she'll never go.

Lochlan is making me laugh today. He's in pajama pants, with a guitar in his arms, and he's performing his old, well-worn, rearranged version of Yes' Sweetness. He's been singing it to me since I was very small. Like we're talking single-digit small. And he's still singing some of the same songs today even though I recall specifically requesting Sister Golden Hair today. Hrmmmph.

Who sings this?

Yes.

No, I asked you who sings it?

The band's name is Yes.

Well, THAT'S dumb.

He bursts out laughing. Actually it's pretty cool. Short and sweet. Like you.

I'm not short!

Okay, Bridgie. What are you?

Dimmer-you-tive.

Dim-IN-u-tive. That's a big word for a little kid.

Wow. I'm going to go home if you keep making fun of me.

But then you won't be able to hear the song that I'm singing for you.

Okay, I'll stay but you have to be nice.

Bridget if you get any bigger I can't give you a piggyback so I like you this size.

You do?

I do.

Well, then what if I grow?

Christian or someone bigger will have to carry you.

What if I never change?

Honestly, I hope you don't. You're perfect just the way you are.

How can you say that? I'm only eight.

It's not the outside, it's the way your mind works. Everything is stars and magic. Keep that. Be this way forever.

Only if you will too.

How am I?

You're just...you. I like you.

I like you too.

Ripple, roar and rise.

We went to an event for the Coastal Jazz Festival last night. No big deal. Just Robert Plant. Just The Sensational Space Shifters. Just Seth Lakeman, who we're all thoroughly in love with now. Especially Lochlan, who came home at two in the morning and dug out my violin and said we've done life all wrong and the only thing we should have been that we haven't actually been were minstrels.

Well, technically we were. 

You know what I mean, Bridge. 

Last night was weird. We dressed to the nines. We ate bad 'New York' pizza on the streets of Vancouver while we strolled down from the parking lot to the Queen Elizabeth theatre, starving but without any time left for a proper dinner. I had a drink at the theatre and then had no more as I had a hard time finding energy for the show, or so I thought.

Seth Lakeman opened and I fell in love instantly with his music. We bought all of his albums when we got home.  So east coast. Celtic. Folk-rock with sometimes more of one and sometimes more of the other. A one-man show. Where has he been hiding? Incredible. Then Robert Plant played the Rain Song and I cried out loud. The songs got jammed in my head. Then I realized how late it was and the show was done and we made our way home.

Seven drunk driving roadblocks on the way. Seven. Three more in the distance on different roads. Life is strange. If you knew death as we do you wouldn't take the chance. You would live so hard. You wouldn't be stupid enough to risk throwing it away, or worse, taking it from someone else. You wouldn't-

Bridget. We know. 

I didn't think that was out loud. 

It was. 

My ears didn't ring afterwards. And last night I slept for eight hours. Hoping it's just going to keep going up and up. Still not feeling better but really thrilled to see all my boys in suit jackets and button down shirts (no ties) and it wasn't even a wedding.

Trying my hardest here.

"She thought she could have what she wanted; She thought she could see the world from above, as if it were a distant blue ball whose sorrows had nothing to do with her. She had wanted to be a bird, but now she knew, as she looked out the window to see Lewis following, that even birds are chained to earth by their needs and desires."      ~Alice Hoffman, The Rules of Magic

Woke up from a drugged sleep (seven. full. hours. Almost there.) in the arms of Lochlan, who was still in jeans and a flannel shirt and boots. He slept sitting up, almost, uncomfortably so, clutching my head against his chest. Like he was ready to fight off every angel I could find in my nightmares and every devil that exists in my waking life.

We need to stay put, Peanut. This is a good place to ride out the hard parts. 

You think it is?

I think it is. 

Okay. (Eight-year-old Bridget always, always trusted him anyway so why not?)

Let's make some breakfast. Do you want to do toast and I'll do some coffee and eggs?

No, bagels instead. Raisin ones. God. Still slurring words this morning. Still fucked up from the pills that stop everything that wants to destroy me in their tracks.

Okay. (He smiles here, because he always trusted eight-year-old Bridget. She always knew exactly what she wanted and she always stayed put when he told her to.)

We'll take today slow. (We have a big group outing tonight and I'm in no condition to go and yet we refuse to miss this.)

Yes. I'm actually feeling better. 

I'll let fuckface know. He's been bothering me nonstop. 

He's just worried. He watched me slide right into the void. 

Yeah, well, the fact that he watched and did nothing to pull you back doesn't leave me wanting to include him if he can't even recognize it happening right in front of his fucking face, Bridge. 

I know. 

You know what? Fuck Caleb. Let's have breakfast up here. I'll call him later.

Two alone.

Gasping at glimpses
Of gentle true spirit
He runs, wishing he could fly
Only to trip at the sound of good-bye

The holy quad is this: grief, fear, wanderlust and love. They all treat the symptoms of the wrong diseases here. No wonder I'm like this. No wonder I walk in quicksand in the dark all the time. No wonder I can't find the light, can't outrun this shit, can't gain any speed.

I have today off. I have a doctor's note as I'm sort of having some sort of major depressive episode exhaustion issue going on here. Everyone's been so helpful and so kind to me and yet I can't seem to gain any traction.

Put on a song, burst into tears. Told Ben it was my favourite and he said it's too sad to be and until I can survive it without the intense reaction it doesn't count.

But I insisted. That's what makes it this way.

Don't do it, Bumblebee. 

Can't help it, it's done. 

They hid all the vehicle keys, except to the ones I can't physically drive (the big bikes and Ben's truck. He got a bigger one. The seat can be zoomed all the way up to the dash and it's still nowhere near the pedals for me so oh, well. Pretty sure this is on purpose. Where's the car key that was in my purse? Ruth doesn't have it. She looked so apologetic. It's sad when you're light years more mature than your mother. I wouldn't want to be in her shoes.

Actually I would.

I would rather have been protected by them, as she is.

Than exploited.

As I was am.

(I said I wouldn't take no for an answer but I technically already have, here, I guess as I'm not in a position to argue. I'm not in a position to operate heavy machinery so on that note, I'm going to bed.)

I am deglazing the pan for a nice light gravy for the roast and Caleb is buttering bread for garlic bread. Dinner for two. He wanted some sort of reassurance after a few long days took me to the other end of my wits and I wasn't forthcoming enough so here I am, being wined and dined and encouraged to help cook in order to prove that everything is fine.

It's fine. I'm fine. I'm okay. Whatever. I finish up and he nods his approval.

Have you decided? 

Bridget, we've talked about this-

I need a change of scenery. 

I've offered and you refuse.

Because you pick weird trips. 

And the Gathering of the whatever they were isn't weird?

No? 

We're not on the same page. 

We're not even in the same library, Cale. 

What would make my trips less...weird to you. 

If they didn't involve all inclusive everything where you just lie around and people wait on you. I hate that. If I go somewhere I want to explore. 

That just gets you into trouble. 

Right. 

So...no. 

No?

Yes, that's what I said. 

Wait. Yes or no?

No, Neamhchiontach. 

Sure you want to be the bad guy here?

I will if I must but I have a feeling I won't be the only one. 

See, I think you will be. 

Try them, Bridget, and let me know how it goes.

Whoop whoop.

The only thing I can do in between sucking up to customers and their endless jokes about 'just one slice of pie but I shouldn't har har har' while they fish for a compliment is to daydream about running away.

Briefly. I could run briefly. I have obligations here. I have a life here.

Actually I'm a little burnt today, a little turnt, even. Maybe one begets the other but I go into each day with guns blazing, super morning-person not even checked, super super super. Holy energy. It starts at a thousand and then slowly ticks down like a full charge to black screen and once again by three this afternoon, I couldn't have lifted another coffee pot if I tried, and happily handed mine over to my successor for the day. She scowled at me and I know damn well she doesn't have the same work ethic. Not like I care though.

God. It's so liberating not to care.


But I do care. I want to do well. I want to matter. I want to have a regular life.

Caleb laughs when I tell him this. That isn't a regular request. 

It's the one I have for you. 

Bridget-

Choose. 

Fine. I'll get back to you once I've thought about it.

I'll be waiting. 

The choice? Either taking me to fucking Burning Man this year or we're going to the Gathering of the Juggalos instead. Not sure if this will light a fire under them but frankly either or sounds like a blast. I will get to something this summer. Not taking no for an answer.

The lamb of Wall Street.

Come, Bridget. 

His eyes glitter, hard navy diamonds in the post-sunset dimness. He's been patient, he's been absolutive, he's been muted in his usual protests. He's been waiting me out.

I don't make him wait longer. I go to him, as instructed and he slides his hands around my waist, trying to breathe me in, exhaling all of his tension out against my skin, as he rests his head against mine. His arms slide further, until I am tightly pressed against him and then he feels right.

This. Just this and nothing else. Relaxes me to the very core. 

Your standards seem low today. 

No, precisely the opposite. They have risen. 

It's a Monday Miracle. 

Was today difficult? 

Beyond. 

Anything I can do?

This. I echo his words and his eyes soften into a lapis laze.

Delighted. But tell me the hardest part anyway. 

Talking myself out of my usual nervous panic. 

Did you succeed?

Barely. 

Then that's a milestone. 

Yeah, you're right. It is. Go me. 

Go you. 

I should go, actually. 

I wish you wouldn't. 

I really need to. 

Another time then, Neamhchiontach. 

I nod, still surprised that I got away. Without being eaten alive and all that.

Burying hatchets (in the sand)/The Four-hour Jesus lunch.

Today was Baptism Day, which means early, early morning church on the beach. Which means men in suits with rolled up pant legs and bare feet being all god-like and Sam pulling out his scuba gear under his robe and neck stole since he has to go all-in.

I didn't know most of the people being baptized personally but I handed them each their goodie bag (containing a bookmark ribbon with one of several of Sam's favorite bible quotes, a small towel with an embroidered cross in one corner, a monogrammed leather bible cover with each candidate's initials and a bunch of treats inside to fully welcome them), after Sam gave them a brand new bible once on land, before walking the next person out to be dipped in the sea.

The final candidate (and the only one I do know) is Jay. New-Jake. Jacob. He came out of the water arm-in-arm with Sam, a look on his face I've never seen before and when I passed him the bag and towel he grabbed me in a big wet hug and then proceeded to hug absolutely everyone. It was beautiful.

We came home and threw a party for him, after everyone had cleaned up. Sam had written a note on the inside cover of each bible for the candidates. Jay passed it around with pride, with tears in his eyes and everyone read it and the weepies were contagious and touching as we brought lunch outside to the patio to enjoy.

What changed? I asked Jake.

I've been given this amazing family, and I want to honor that and be the best person I can, and part of that involves letting go a bit. 

And letting God?

Yeah. It's hard to be as earnest about it. 

You can resist if you want. Look at Lochlan. 

He carries so much anger. 

He's had a hard life, Jay. 

Is it easier now? 

Yes, but he's scarred nonetheless. 

We all are. 

True. 

I want to help make this a beautiful life. 

It is already because you're here. With us. 

Thank you, Bridget. 

I didn't do it. 

Going to give God the credit? 

No, Lochlan. He's the one who brought you back even when you didn't deserve it. 

He nods. I've got to thank him. How do I do that?

Keep being a good person. 

I'll try. 

No, Jay, you have to go all in. There is no 'try'. 

You sound like Yoda. 

He was a smart little green dude. 

Does this mean you're coming to the dark side with the other nerds?

No, I'm never going to be a big Star Trek fan. Sorry.

Living on the edge.

I feel like I reached a milestone today.

We had to drive into Vancouver for an errand and on the way out of it Lochlan stopped and got me a coffee. He was in a rush and forgot to get a lid, and so he handed me an open, full paper cup of coffee when he got back to where I waited. Then he drove the whole way home with me in the passenger seat, sipping my open, super-hot coffee. I'm not sure if it was my confidence that I could manage or his trust but I didn't spill it, didn't get burned and finished it just as we got home. In spite of the short stops, potholes and distracted highway usual Vancouver shit. In spite of the fact that I can't walk and breathe at the same time and have never gotten a coffee on the go.

Because to Lochlan I will always be eight years old and needing to be taken care of, protected from hot coffees, protected from myself maybe.

So I guess I'm an adult today? Finally?

Hurrah. Coffee for everyone. No lids though, fuck it, we're grownups here.