I….  we….  head to Indiana on Friday.

Then, two weeks after that, he heads back alone.
Him, to a house with only a cat, work, and school.

I’m back to my doctors and family.

It doesn’t seem quite fair.     This is probably the most ‘normal’ we’ve been in like… forever.  He goes to work and has evenings and weekends off.    I’m here at the house or the gym during the day.    I keep up on my class and make sure the house and yard are in shape.

Okay, so it’s not normal normal.   In a normal situation, I’d be working more on classes or have a job outside of the house.

But…   when he works, goes to school, and tutors, it’s crazy.    I’m walking on eggshells more than I usually do.   All I become is a half-assed support class.     I mean, I make a passable support class, but I’m better with a comrade in arms.

But, with each trip, I have objectives.
I didn’t meet all of the objectives last trip, but I think I’ve done pretty well this one.

I wanted to:
— Continue to go through all of the old stuff that we bought.
This is really….  anything.    Canned food.   Read old books.   Clean things that haven’t been cleaned since before the anorexia stage.

—  When I got here, Jason mentioned something about decay… how he sees decay all around him.    I can understand that.   The hopelessness.   The depression.   No matter how hard someone tries or works, it’s not good enough because nothing gets better.    Nothing changes.    It slowly becomes worse.

Part of my overall quest objective was to slow or, if possible, stop it.
I think I’ve succeeded.   Not as much as I’d like to, of course, but it’s better.

Better and better.  That’s what I tell my students.    It’s the only way we can proceed.  Right?

In a way, I feel like a wave.

When I come to Florida, I crash upon the shore.
Everything within sight is swept into me.    I become part of everything and everything is me.

But, when I leave, I leave a mark.    Just like a wave leaves wet sand and shells, I leave…  I don’t know.   My own marks.    Even if it’s just a mowed yard or leftover chili, I leave a mark that will eventually fade.    Only broken shells remain that will, eventually, become part of the sand.

You know, this sounded a lot more poetic in my head.

Anyway…   I really thought I had more time here.  There’s still more I think I can do here – that I would like to do.

I guess I can take solace that waves are never-ending.   I’ll return, probably during the winter months, but it should be more hospitable.   It’s difficult to go exploring when there’s a heat advisory every day.  I don’t want to pass out on the people trail between cities.

It’s just… weird.
Here, not here.

I wonder what we’re doing sometimes.