Walking my baby back home

"Gee, it's great after bein' out late
Walkin' my baby back home
Arm in arm over meadow and farm
Walkin' my baby back home"

I never miss a chance to walk her home. Every time she leaves my place, I put on my coat and I walk her back to her door. No matter the time nor the weather.

Sometimes she protests, "But its still early! I'll be fine."

"I need the exercise", I explain.

 I tell her that her neighborhood is not the safest. I tell her that I enjoy the stroll.

None of those are lies but none of those are the truth either.

I do it because I still can. One day it would no longer be my place to walk her home. That pleasure will belong to someone else.

But every night that I walk her home, I am Maximus when I take that solitary journey back home. I've won the battle that day and the reward was the extra 10 minutes with her.

James Taylor's version of that song is one of my favorites. It sounds so upbeat when he sings it. It doesn't when I do.

Thats all for now

Dear Reader

This blog will now pause for an undetermined amount of time as the writer gathers his wits and his heart off the floor.

It may be back someday, but not here.

Six Flags

Roller Coasters... My life is a Roller Coaster. Everything here is kids' stuff.

Jealousy

She was visiting a friend tonight. I haven't seen her since Sunday, and tonight someone else will enjoy the pleasure of her company.

I don't know much about this friend, only that she met him in New York, and that he is from Israel. In my mind I see a dashing young Israeli with type typical bravado and self confidence. Maybe they are on a date. Maybe they will embrace. Maybe she will kiss him. Maybe.

I find myself jealous of this unknown person. I have no right to be but I cannot help it. The emotion wasn't anger, wasn't rage, wasn't anxiety. It was sadness. I've resolved to lose her and this was as good of a cause as any.

Tonight I had a language lesson with my new friend. He is a pilot and lover of languages. He taught me some beginning Hebrew, in return, I converse with him in Mandarin. He knew my mission and tailored my lesson as such. After one hour of Hebrew and one of Mandarin, I felt more despair. How will I ever learn this language enough to make her feel at home?

Then the storm clouds parted to reveal a single ray of sunshine. She texted me.

"How was the lesson?" she asked.

My heart soared! There is some hope! She thought of me! I have survived the night. she may be with another, but somewhere in her mind I still exist.

Maybe she still cares for me. I escape another death.

Out of surgery

Dad is ok. Out of surgery.

Sent from my iPhone

Quadruple Bypass

My dad is going for a quad bypass surgery tomorrow. I'm not worried about him as much as about my future.

My heart is sinking

Purgatory is the place between death and the afterlife. If you believe in such things, it is where souls spend time purifying itself before ascending to heaven or descending to hell.

Today I entered my own purgatory.

It is the slow writhing dismemberment of our relationship. It is too early to mourn, but too late for any hope of recovery. I feel my heart at the pit of my stomach, my eyes half closed, and all the features on my face succumbing to gravity.

I forced a smile while I visited my roommates at the hospital. The proud happy parents gaze upon their child, welcoming their future. For now I have no such future. I only have the passage of time.

There will be other loves, other heartbreaks but not at this moment. Now there is only sadness, only loneliness. I started the chain of events that will eventually set her free but bury me in despair. I lied to her. I told her everything will be ok when she goes. I want her to be happy, and to be guilt free. For that, the price is for me to silently swallow the bitterness.

She replied to my email with soothing words. The words were crafted to soften the blow. Manufactured glimmers of false hope sprinkled in the Dear John.

I will construct a smile from memory. I hope my eyes will not give away that all which remains is a shell of me. She'll believe me when I tell her that I'll be fine if this lump in my throat doesn't get in the way.

I know what I want. I want her to stay.