What I wouldn't give for a good cup of coffee.

August 28, 2013 0917

            I have been laying in this dark silent room listening to him sleep since 0640.  I am usually up that early.  Recently I have been sleeping more, but it was only out of depression.

            I like the morning.  I like rising before everyone else.  I like a nice big breakfast of eggs, bacon, and maybe toast.  I like to sit at the kitchen table with my coffee and write.  I like the peaceful quiet fresh morning.  I like to listen to the birds wake up.

            Today, like most days since we have been here, I wake and never rise from the bed.  My mind is still rested and renewed.  However, I have no kitchen table to sit at and I have no eggs in the refrigerator to cook.  What I wouldn’t give for a good cup of coffee.

            Today I lay with my eyes closed and listen to the air conditioner and the occasional snore.  If I keep my eyes closed I can pretend I am waking up in my house.  I don’t have to deal with the harsh reality that I am still waking up smack dab in the middle of my life.

            The distance between The Goat Man and I grows larger everyday.  The small bickering is slowly tearing us down.  His body language pulls away from me more than it pulls toward me.  I am not sure what my body language is saying to him.

            We sit near each other less.  We touch less.  It has been a while since I have heard “I love you” from The Goat Man.  He always says, “I love you too” but only the preprogrammed response.  He no longer initiates the sentiment and rarely thinks about kissing me.  The distance is enough to be noticed the last couple of days.

            The distance is most evident when we sleep.  I have been watching him for hours now and we have not touched.  I do not recall a night we spent together that we have gone this long without touching.  (Come to think of it I don’t recall a period of time this long he didn’t fart.  You know I’m in trouble when I start missing his farts.) He has rolled close to me and he has rolled away from me.  I have seen his eyes open twice, but he does not touch me.  He does not show any sign that touching me even crosses his mind.  I lay here and watch him, but I don’t touch him either.

            I don’t have the urge to pull him close.  I think it is best for him if he just keeps pulling away.  He will be better without the weight of me around his neck.  We keep saying all we have is each other, but the truth is one of us is going to get voted off the island.  We are both trying to survive.

            I realized this harsh reality when we started talking about going back to Michigan.  Instantly, he started talking about the mission.  We cannot go to the mission together.  The mission does not take couples.  He was making plans without me.  As soon as he hits his stomping ground, the place he is most comfortable, his plans involved only him.

            I wonder are we together because we want to be together or are we together because we have no choice?  When he looks at the rest of his life am I in it?  When I look at my future is he in it?  I don’t know if I see a future with or without him anymore.  Everything past this moment blurs.

            We have come from a crazy place.  When I look back at the trailer we shared in Kalamazoo and all of the things that happened there I am amazed we aren’t both sporting straight jackets. 

            We had one neighbor stalking The Goat Man and possibly me because she certainly knew when I was coming and going.  She broke into the trailer after we left and stole all of the light bulbs!  She also took a globe I left for my granddaughters, which pisses me right off.  The light bulbs are weird, but I wasn’t using them, but the globe?

            Another neighbor was a peeping Tom.  He was sneaking past the back of our trailer to stare at the lady in the trailer on the other side of ours.  He would bring the beer into his house by the case daily.  That man knew way too much about meth and meth houses that is for sure.

            The husband of the woman being peeped on by the drunk would call the cops at every single bump in the night, pot hole in the road, and every shadow that followed him on a sunny day. 

            All of them were nice to our faces, but the stalker was secretly hoping I would die so she could have The Goat Man.  She actually sent him an email saying just that.  That woman caused a lot of problems for The Goat Man and I until we started looking back at where we have been.

            I think of that song, “When you’re going through hell just keep on moving.  Don’t look back and you just might make it before the devil even knows your there.”  This is how I feel about the trailer in Kalamazoo.  I just kept moving forward hoping the hell would end.

            Everything is always clearer when you look back and reassess things.  I will never know what all happened there.  I will always wonder and doubt.  The basic foundations of our relationship were damaged in that hell.  Pieces of smoldering ash still fly up and burn us once in awhile, but we were not broken.

            I sit on this bed and that beautiful man is laying in this bed with me.  I know we are not falling more in love every day right now, but he is here with me and I am here with him.  He keeps telling me this has been the worst year of his life and I just try to shrug it off.

            This year The Goat Man and I have been tested.  The only thing consistent, honest, and true all year is that we keep choosing each other.  When push comes to shove and choices have to be made I am always his answer and he is always my answer.  He fell in love with me in the middle of chaos.  I can’t wait to see how great it is in the middle of peace.