Gone Fishing

The bitch is gone, having packed up her bag with all of the garments of shame and self pity and guilt.  I sent a few things along with her this morning as well, like self-hatred and the need to control and the belief that I am not worth loving.  I hope it is heavy for her, I hope that she feels beleaguered with the weight of all of the things she has left with me when she has come to visit over the years.  I just don’t have time for her today.  And if by chance we meet that woman who is grief on the side of the road, I think-well, I don’t think we will need to stop to see if she needs help.  For today, I am done carrying any burdens that aren’t mine to carry.

Our car is packed and ready, the boys adorned with cowboy hats and sunscreen and excitement.  We have fishing licenses and food, books and pillows and fine music to listen to on the way.  I am going to be kind and loving, because this stuff ?  Memories in the making.  And they will be good.

I will see you all on Sunday.  Many many thanks to every one of you who help fill up the holes in my patched and broken heart.