1st July 2024
I could be wrong but Until very-very recently I swear I understood everything she was thinking. Maybe not the actual specifics but certainly the spirit.
There is some kind of bond that develops over twenty-plus years of being together where words arnt always required.
It’s almost like saying things out loud is some kind of comforting luxury , a check on reality but the underlying structure is always there, existing in a mutual agreement of silence. A known direction of travel in a mixed up shook up world
I no longer have that almost telepathic connection . Somewhere and somehow it has been lost .
Forever.
Today as I finished showering she asked me if she’d gone. I asked who ? “ the woman in charge of all this” she said.
“ no, I’m in charge and you’re in charge, “ was my somewhat sad and desperately feeble and as it turns out futile response.
My head kind of blew a fuse, I think I saw the electrical flash in my brain scrambling to figure out who this confabulation could relate to. I threw a few names out quizzically and the moment passed.
We had supper and watched Wimbledon.
At 7:30 An early night beckoned as usual .- she was somewhat agitated - “where does she sleep ? “ , she wanted to know. “The woman in charge”.
I have no idea of course but I blurted a lie about her husband picking her up which for now satisfies the situation
Some call it love lies. Some call it little white lies. Some say angels cry .
I could be wrong but Until very-very recently I swear I understood everything she was thinking. Maybe not the actual specifics but certainly the spirit.
There is some kind of bond that develops over twenty-plus years of being together where words arnt always required.
It’s almost like saying things out loud is some kind of comforting luxury , a check on reality but the underlying structure is always there, existing in a mutual agreement of silence. A known direction of travel in a mixed up shook up world
I no longer have that almost telepathic connection . Somewhere and somehow it has been lost .
Forever.
Today as I finished showering she asked me if she’d gone. I asked who ? “ the woman in charge of all this” she said.
“ no, I’m in charge and you’re in charge, “ was my somewhat sad and desperately feeble and as it turns out futile response.
My head kind of blew a fuse, I think I saw the electrical flash in my brain scrambling to figure out who this confabulation could relate to. I threw a few names out quizzically and the moment passed.
We had supper and watched Wimbledon.
At 7:30 An early night beckoned as usual .- she was somewhat agitated - “where does she sleep ? “ , she wanted to know. “The woman in charge”.
I have no idea of course but I blurted a lie about her husband picking her up which for now satisfies the situation
Some call it love lies. Some call it little white lies. Some say angels cry .