I write with tears dripping down.
Today's respite was nice. I got through a productive workday, and managed to feel some nudges of positivity. Then I get home, post-run, and am able to do some 'processing'. Like reading through my dad's emails, sorting through the medical jargon from the nurse/doctor.
I got through the day, the calls, the meetings, I did my run, I made and ate a nutritious dinner of curry-chicken wraps with basmati rice, and Glee is on, the ultimate in mindless tv, a bunch of ruminating 'normal' teenagers, crying about nothing (no, I didn't go to my prom. go back and re-read. I'm not a prom-goer. There is no judgment in this statement. I just am not a prom-going type. I never have been. I was this girl then. I'm her now).
It's the witching hour I guess, when I clean up, put away the dishes, prepare for tomorrow, and settle down to read, now that I'm here alone. When M. was here he would have me eating dinner at 1o pm, some amazing thing that he had cooked, and I would fall asleep listening to whatever movie he was watching. Now, I have adjusted back to my routine since he has returned home to Maine.
I talk to him around dinner time and we tell each other what we are having for dinner. Sometimes we each pour a glass of wine and drink them together while we talk on the phone. I know the stats and status of all the New England teams (ah Celtics. you HANDED IT OVER).
The Jays are playing the Red Sox tonight, (here, in TO!) and my loyalty is conflicted.
But I look to the everydayness of life right now, in spite of the day dread. The ordinary-ness is comforting, distracting, and only when I am alone do I give in to the dark thoughts, as I did yesterday, as I do right now.