Recon, recoup, relax.

I did not get out of bed last week. My mood was bad, my enthusiasm got a failing grade and my smile was in such poor form, if not nonexistent, that I chose to not subject anyone to that crap as it is always a first world problem and I am always the first in my own little world, as it is muffled from yours, silent and still. 

Lochlan spent the first day fretting, the second day yelling, the third day he slumped into his own brief depression and then on Friday he summoned the doctor, who not only gave me more meds but also gave me some meds for the latest round of eczema around my nose, as I get stress induced bumps when it isn't caused by anything and everything else. I look like I have a very bad cold and my nose is raw. Ben called it a must-rash and now we're laughing again but I think it took far too long to pull off and this morning I got out of bed, showered and put on warm clothes and pulled myself the fuck together and woke up Lochlan and suggested we go for brunch so I could hit the ground running. He was so happy I think he cried and then I had to eat my breakfast with my left hand as he came and sat on my side of the booth and never went back to his own, a customary habit long in the making. I am decent with a fork in my left, anyway. I still have both eyes, so that's something. 

That joke is also long in the making. 

I have almost finished the Unabomber miniseries. I'm going to watch everything else in my list this winter and sit by the fire and rake leaves and shovel snow and be productive because that's the point of life. If not you're wasting it.

Those were the orders from Loch, backed up by the whole army. I asked if this plan had a name and he said Operation: Princess.

Cool.

Valentino for the imposter, thank you.

Four plane trips and two attempts at high speed Netflix and I finally finished season 3 of Bling Empire. I don't even know why I watched it, though I was really hoping for Kevin and Kim to finally give in and get together and so the stupid plot device DeVON or whatever seemed so fake. 

Not like any of it was 'real' but that was really disappointing. LOL I love trash television and I get so little of it. Humor me. 

Now I'm going to cry my way through Twentieth Century girl I think, unless I decide to knock off some horror flicks first, but we shall see. Ben is up for anything now that Bling Empire is done. He watched two episodes of it and was horrified. I was like but look at the Chanel dress or the Gucci bag! And he would ask if I wanted one. 

Sigh. That's not the point. 

The point is if I have a bag like that or a dress like that it's a Very Special Occasion. And I have a handful of beautiful bespoke designer pieces but not to wear every day just to go to some sushi joint like they do. Not that I would anyway because I'm not a fashionista or even a wannabe, but I am a huge people watcher and am fascinated by what people do in the wild. 

I watch them in order to become less...feral. I don't know. That's what Christian always said. And ever since he started saying that I see that he's right. I can follow the trend and dress to the nines and look like I am the epitome of self-assuredness or whatever I'm supposed to convey but on the inside is that sticky little wild brat screaming to run free. 

Then again maybe they all feel that way too. I mean all the self-assured folks in their designer outfits. All the confident people strolling into and out of my peripheral vision. Anyone. Everyone. Who knows? No one will tell me either way so I am left to imagine it, as I am with everything in life.

Better.

Caleb pops his head in to where I am lying on the floor in the sun like a cat, the only human characteristics being my headphones, clothes and the fact that I am belting out broken Korean lyrics with all the passion of an accidental tourist because I know like a handful of phrases and that's it. 

I see him and rip the headphones off, ending my singing and he smirks briefly, looking all of twenty. My heart lurches and then slaps itself backwards into next week and I snap involuntarily. 

What. 

I just wanted to say I appreciate your discretion with Samuel and I've also spoken to him about attempting to gain inappropriate time with you. 

ARGHHHH. I pick up my phone without responding and dial Sam, who picks up instantly. 

Bridge. 

Are you okay? Caleb just told me he came for you. 

Huh? He asked a few questions about church and then we talked about maybe getting some Japanese food on the weekend. 

Oh, okay. 

He didn't mention you or our conversation. I was ready for it. Thanks for typing it all out. 

Anytime. K, love. 

Love. 

I hang up. Liar. I go to put my headphones on and he barges right in, taking them out of my hands. 

It was implied-

Yeah, yeah. And what did we say about not interfering? 

What should I do when someone attempts to usurp me? 

Nothing? Unless you're there and even then you do nothing. That's the deal since you hurt Ben. I can handle Sam. 

You could handle Joel too.

Stop it, Cale. I'm having the best Friday and you aren't allowed to ruin it. 

Then I shall leave you to your uh...music. 

Thanks.

Appetite for destruction, I guess.

Sam and I went out for breakfast this morning, a rare getaway with just the two of us since Matt is sleeping in and so is Lochlan, truth be told because it's a hella windy Thursday and we were all up late last night and there are precious few morning people in this household at any given time. I got a text, woke Lochlan long enough to let him now and then let myself into the bathroom to shower quickly and put on warm woolen tights, a wool dress and pearl earrings, which I promptly took off again as I hate how they feel. An extra ring instead made me feel semi-polished and I was off to meet Sam in the driveway where he opened the car door for me and then came around and got in and we were off. No radio, no talking until we were seated at the restaurant and our coffee and drinks order had been taken, with nary a frown made for my request for a mimosa made with grapefruit juice, since coffee alone is static, boring. 

Besides, if you aren't day-drinking are you even having a day?

That isn't funny OR clever, Bridget, Sam says kindly. 

If I had wanted to be funny I would have ordered one for you, too. I mock-glare at him over the rim of my cup. The one downside of this restaurant are the chairs are rather low for shorter folk and so the table hits at chest-height. I stand up, place my bag on the seat and sit on it. Brings me up to above armpit level and I feel more normal. Hahaha. Do I actually? I mean, have I ever? 

Then I realize I could fuck up my phone, key fobs and everything else and slide off it and return to sitting at child leg-swinging height, chin on table top. Well, not actually but it feels close. 

Should we move to a booth? 

Let me test it. I head to a booth but it's not much better. In fact, it's worse, somehow. Great. No, that's fine. 

Excuse me, could we have a cushion? 

Yes, of course. 

They bring a big stiff pillow from the lounge window seats. Nice! Eight going on whatever old I am now. Perfect. A booster seat like the one in my truck. Semi-humiliating but also exceedingly helpful.  

The food arrives and I order another mimosa. It's going to be a long day. Sam eats exactly one quarter of his food before starting in, and I was ready for it. 

About this winter-

Yups.

Bridget-

WHAT. 

Caleb isn't-

Up for discussion? No, he's not. You're right, Samuel. 

He looks at his plate. I spear a piece of roasted potato from it and eat it in spite of having saved all of mine for last. I'm hoarding them to absorb the alcohol. 

Lochlan-

Is fine with it.

Is he? I don't think he is. 

Are you? Because I'm thinking you are not. 

You're very good. 

I nod, no idea at what. 

I am jealous. 

You have Matt. 

I was hoping-

Okay, I think we're ready for the bill. Let's not even go there. If you want a visit here or there just ask me. Don't turn it into something obsessive. I'm the queen of that. Trust me. 

I feel oddly calm and detached, like I'm giving the safety announcement on a plane before takeoff. Put on your oxygen mask before putting the ones on the people you need to help so you can help them, for God's sake and if we go down none of this is going to help whatsoever so good luck and hope you had a nice life. 

(I did, thanks for asking and no thanks to those who fed my overstuffed ego. Or let her drink.)

Wax-sealed (for her pleasur- EW).

We finally got the whisky advent calendars at stores in Canada this year. If we had them before I didn't see them and no one at the stores knew what I was talking about but of course now that I can waltz in and buy one I am balking at the price tag ($336 for 24 30ml drams which isn't even a full shot each) when I can by two bottles of Lagavulin for the same price...ish. 

So that's what I'm going to do. 

Also...climate people...a Klimnt? Are you mad? Stop it. Want to target something? Go glue yourselves to an Amazon warehouse. Average of four trucks a day on my street. It's ridiculous. I still make jokes that I can order 4 things and get 7 deliveries. Even if I check the box that says to wait and deliver it together. 

I should see if they have the advent calendars. Can you order alcohol through Amazon? Should I even look or should I leave that monster in the closet with all of the skeletons?

Waked goods.

How the faces of love have changed turning
The pages
And I have changed oh, but you, you remain
Ageless
I turned around
And the water was closing all around
Like a glove
Like the love that had finally, finally found me
Then I knew
In the crystalline knowledge of you
Drove me through the mountains
Through the crystal-like clear water fountain
Drove me like a magnet
To the sea

Today is decidedly fall-like. PJ snuck some maple rum cream into my coffee, Duncan pretended he didn't see it. Caleb did see it and began to protest before receiving a swift kick under the table to the shins from Ben. The leaves are halfway down now, piled everywhere and I drank my coffee and then went outside to lie in the biggest pile, listening to Stevie Nicks on my air pods, plotting maybe some breakfast when I went back inside, but later and maybe more coffee since I didn't feel awake. The rain threatens but holds, clouds obscuring the blue this morning. Ben came out and threw me off the cliff at nine sharp and then I had to change into dry clothes and suddenly needed woolen tights with my dress and Lochlan's ancient cardigan with the big wood toggles. 

I didn't need any more coffee though. I'm awake. 

I'm awake.

I made eight dozen chocolate chip cookies, boys all but hover-drooling around me as I worked and they quickly volunteered to clean up afterwards while I took a plate of fresh cookies to Batman's. When I left his house Lochlan was waiting by the path. He took my hand and we automatically went the long way, through the grass at the top of the cliff. To the sea. To the sea, I hummed inside my head.

My airpod batteries died hours ago but I can recharge them. I am currently also recharging myself.

Jacob, the elephant in every room, on the lawn, floating in the sea, sitting on a cloud. You name it, I can see him.

A beautiful blonde elephant and I chose not to mark his death or his birthday, though I may have poured a whole scotch into the ground for him right in front of Lochlan but I didn't say anything out loud, I only said it in my head. 

Happy birthday, Pooh. Wish you were still here. 

Fifteen years on and I don't know what to think anymore. It physically hurts to imagine him or think about him or hear his voice and see his face in a video or in my brain. It cuts my heart in half on an hourly basis and I don't know what you want from me, truthfully. I thought I would grieve and then live and move on but I just tuck the grief in under my elbow and go about my day and I'll forget it's there until it falls to the floor and rolls to the centre of the room and then everyone looks at it in horror until I snatch it back up and tuck it back next to my ribcage where my heart lunges for it and just about kills me, every single time. 

It's a giant hole and the boys did an amazing job not filling it but padding the sides so it's like a trampoline I can jump into and then bounce out of again. Lochlan's done an amazing job filling my field of view with his hesitant smile and his huge red curls, his easy hands and endless affection. I never have to ask for a hug or a kiss. My hand is always held. I am always in his arms. He is always right there, keeping his promises safe. 

The pills remain a necessity. With them I am brave. With them I can easily navigate things. I can deal with the thirst, the sudden narcolepsy and the late night wakefulness. I can deal with being benign about everything and emotional about nothing now. It's better than the fear that shadowed me my whole life thus far. I still cry. I still laugh like a teakettle someone forgot about, red in the face, tears streaming. I still feel things but they don't sink me in the quicksand sorrow I swam in daily before. Writing is so hard. Painting is so hard. Creative things are fleeting and difficult to begin but I am still here and before this I didn't want to be, in all honesty. I thought the kids were grown and independent and I could just disappear. I don't want to anymore. Thank the boys for that, they've been working so hard on this and I didn't say much because yet again I thought I would be a dismal failure to everyone. 

Jacob seems happy that it's working. I still look for his approval. I still look for his permission. 

Maybe that will change eventually too.

Am I home? I don't know, check the itinerary. Check the flight. Check the time. Check the gate. Don't check the bags. Check my brain.

Sorry. I know it's Wednesday. We arrived home last night due to a bunch of semi-comical and also tearjerkingly awful delays and we are just in time for storms everywhere, except here. I am happy to be home and I can tell you with great certainty that I am never flying commercial again, if only to erase the horror of listening to some woman chat up a guy so obviously (and he was so oblivious) for seven hours straight without even a fucking BREATH and when they got to zodiac signs and he said he was a Scorpio and she screeched Oh I lovvvve Scorpes! Lochlan and I almost howled out loud with laughter, two rows behind them. 

That almost made up for four hours of misery. Let me tell you. I am five foot nothing and those planes are made for preschoolers. Also people are so entitled. They put their carryons overhead and then proceed to stand there and organize the contents while the lineup grows behind them. Like what the fuck, get it later. SIT DOWN. 

And then when the plane lands? SIT DOWN. GOD. 

Yeah, I can't do it anymore. Call me a carbon slut but don't make me fly with the peasants. 

(Don't worry, I am the original peasant, dirty knees and all. Two dollars in my fist for a coffee and a sandwich, it's the first food I've had all week, thank you.)

(That statement for those who are blissfully unaware of how poor we were and are ready to rake me over the coals I stole to keep warm.)

I walked the empty beaches. I found rocks. I forgot about the rocks and damn near got ROASTED at the airport in security. I ate. I drank. I did not sleep at all and am ruined, mostly. I navigated (!). I cried. I heard bagpipes in person and I paid the piper. I bought silly souvenirs like good tourists do and I may have smuggled so much food home in our luggage we considered throwing away all of our already-worn clothing to accommodate it but in the end we rolled everything tightly and it worked. We had a wonderful week. 

We are exhausted.

We are never doing it again.

God's menu.

Packing for what kind of weather I don't know and he won't say. We leave tomorrow. Tickets in hand. Checking in to a flight tonight for twenty-four hours notice. Going a little crazy but also flying commercial. It's been a while. I am spoilt but I also know I can buy food after security and bring it aboard. Probably water or juice and then drink on the plane. 

Muhahaha. Am I kidding? Of course not. 

Am I crazy? More than a little, but we all know that already. 

Will I miss my boys? Of course but this is a Lochlan-exclusive trip. See you Monday (actually probably Tuesday.)

Jake.

His singing voice kicks into my head every time I stop moving. I've washed all the curtains, radically trimmed the huge tea-rose bushes around the back side of the backyard gate and pet the dog so hard I might have worn a hole in his fur, if not for PJ whisking him out of my arms and telling me I was in need of a good drink or maybe something even better. 

I tried that too. I went to Duncan. Then a night at August's. Then I kept Lochlan and Ben up all night the next night and then I ended up with Caleb because Lochlan and I are going away later this week and he won't see me for a few days so he wanted time. 

It doesn't work, PJ. Pour the drink. 

Get a grip on it, Bridge. It's just the time of year. 

Yes. I know it is. The weather turns cold and dark and rainy. The trees blow hard against their roots, surrendering their leaves the sky and to the earth. The pavement is slick and reflective. The heater comes on. The dog burrows in closer to the abandoned blanket someone left on the couch and my mind instantly flicks a switch on a mechanism slowed by rust from a million oceans of tears. 

The hard part is I don't know what he's singing, and so I catch myself listening. That's always how he ropes me in and one of the reasons I can never get too far from him. Time is not distance, it's just time. Space is meaningless because he follows. Trips are good for fun restaurants and distractions and I think I'll be okay but he'll still be singing, just out of earshot.