No more “I love you’s”

Oh, sweetie darlings, my heart is breaking. Nothing compared to the pain one of my oldest, dearest, nearest, till-death-do-us-part friends is feeling, of course. Like death, divorce might not come as a total shock and surprise, but once the decision is made and final the torment isn’t over no matter how relieved you feel that the push and pull, the fighting, the on-off-and-on-again misery-go-round is over.

Like in the death of someone close, you are required to keep a level head and start taking care of business when what you really need is a cabin in the woods and some privacy to sort out yourself first. But there is no time, and not all divorces are friendly, let’s-do-this-in-an-adult-fashion affairs; many (most?) are the result of a long period of infighting where the road to reconciliation crumbled along the way and neither partner has the will or strength to begin construction anew. Separate ways, then, new roads and vistas.

She has been accused of being strong (accused! sweetie darlings, as if strength were a handicap; is it, in women? is that what those men were saying?) and will now put all that resilience of hers to good use, I’m sure. But strong doesn’t mean impervious, cold-hearted or flippant. She will need her friends and family every soul-searing step of the way. So will he, and my godson, a family blowing apart.

It happens all the time, I know. I’m just so fucking sorry and saddened it had to happen to them.

These dreams

Temperature: 15/59 degrees after a very cool start to September. Summer warmth didn’t stay, it left, and we had another extreme where it rained, and rained, and rained. It rained all August, and the grass turned green but of course the bigger trees were goners, shedding yellow leaves as if it were fall already. Since it started early, it’s gonna be a long one. Autumn, I mean.

Drinking: afternoon tea instead of coffee. That’s how chilly I’ve been feeling, sweetie darlings.

Eating: Had some mushroom marinara ravioli for lunch. Simple and simply de-lec-ta-ble.

Watching: the strangest of dreams. Dreams and nightmares. Are you having any? “I’ll ugly cry until you leave,” the last one ended. I had bumped into someone I’d wanted to bump into for a very long time. How they knew that, or me, who knows; dream logic, you know. And nerves don’t make me run or give me the waterworks but now I ran and upon being stopped burst into anxious tears and panicky pleas. I’ll ugly cry until you leave? Oh but that gave me the giggles. And they were having none of it. Too bad we never got to chat, though, it would have been bizarre for sure.

Listening: to something evocative: Morning Landscape by Moritz Bintig. Find a quiet space or your earbuds, put this on and tell me where you went. Or don’t! Happy trails. 😘

Reading: The Burning Girls by C. J. Tudor. And when you do pick up one of her books, as you should, dearest denizens, be sure to have plenty of time on your hands because those hands won’t want to put that book down, they simply won’t be able to.

Writing: in my mind a note of thank you and happy birthday to two formative powers: Brazil and my maternal grandfather, 199 and 101 respectively. I miss you both so very much. (Brazil, we are all very worried about you.)

Thinking: Sweet baby Jesus it’s getting harder and harder to keep up with the news. Not for the sheer volume of it but for the sheer stupidity, the feeling you’re left with, the embarrassment you feel, ashamed to be living in such regressive, such idiotic times. Sorry to sound so negative but after four billion years of evolution this is the best we can do? I have said this before and I’ll say it again: Dreams should fuel the future. We are giving our children nightmares.