Saturday, May 30, 2009
at home.
i'm back, and the monkey is still in kentucky. it's lonely, but also sort of relieving in the way being alone can be when you have too much to do and not enough grace. i'm hungry for things to be "back to normal," and while sleeping in my own bed is a nice part of that, sleeping in it alone isn't quite right. since the good job we thought he had right before leaving didn't work out (not because of his absence; there was some weird miscommunication that led even the very wary monkey to celebrate prematurely), there's no real reason for him to come home when his family can still use his help.
in the meantime, i'm locked in a dead sprint toward the end of the quarter. meh. it'll get done, or it won't. i think things are looking okay.
i keep meaning to write something down about what it was like out there, about how i feel closer-knitted to him that i did before, even though i stopped suspecting that was possible about three years ago. selfishly--so selfishly--i'm grateful that this kind of tragedy befell him first, so that my fear of it, which has always been much greater than his, can be tempered by knowing what it is to have someone un-alone you in the loneliest time of loss. the world has never been so small.
in the meantime, i'm locked in a dead sprint toward the end of the quarter. meh. it'll get done, or it won't. i think things are looking okay.
i keep meaning to write something down about what it was like out there, about how i feel closer-knitted to him that i did before, even though i stopped suspecting that was possible about three years ago. selfishly--so selfishly--i'm grateful that this kind of tragedy befell him first, so that my fear of it, which has always been much greater than his, can be tempered by knowing what it is to have someone un-alone you in the loneliest time of loss. the world has never been so small.
