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July 11, 2005

I chill in deep space, a mask is over my face

"I'm going to go write a blog entry," I say to Moo. We are standing in the darkened kitchen, a chicken carcass we've been eating from on the counter, a loaf of bread and some olive oil in a dish next to it. I'm having a glass of cabernet. "Are you going to write about my man-boobies?" he says to me, poking my arm. Poke. Poke. "Mmm, nope," I say, but I guess I lied.

On my way home from work tonight I stopped the car and looked through the trees at the setting sun, red and orange and wreathed in clouds; the sky looked on fire. The air is saturated, leaden, so heavy it's an effort to breathe it. After Moo and I walked Jack, I stood in the front yard in the dark, sweating, and talked to my neighbor B. "I pray for you," she told me. When I came inside my shirt was soaked from the effort of standing upright and talking in the wet air and the dry, chilled atmosphere in the house was a shock.

Herself has been gone for almost a week. Moo and I say to each other pretty regularly
"What do you want to do?"
"I dunno; what do you want to do?"
It's hard to fill the time, all the free time that has, amazingly, opened up in front of us for the next few weeks.

Do I miss her? Probably. Or at least I want to miss her, but the sheer, utter relief I feel at not having to be somebody's everything overwhelms me and although I can say it, I don't ... quite ... feel it. I do, however, sleep badly and wake up at 4:00 a.m.; maybe that's my punishment for having a cold heart.

Posted by JudyLa at 10:00 PM | Comments (0)