Stranger

Unsure if the optimistic, hyperactive, feeling that I am experiencing, is due to two cups of coffee, or if the manic portion of my self diagnosed bipolar disorder is setting  in. Whatever it may be, I feel like a giant. Like a rock among tiny grains of sand.

I woke up when David came in to say his morning goodbye to me, before leaving for work. I can always tell when something is bothering him. All he said was goodbye, and it was dark in the room, so I could not see his face, but I just knew. I got out of bed, and followed him to the kitchen.

I think I do a lot of written worrying here about just a few topics in our life, but I never tell the whole story. I never really flesh it all out. If I did, I would accomplish nothing other than being seated hours on end here at my computer, writing and writing, page after page...growing more and more enraged.

My husband has a pain that I will never be able to soothe. I wish that there was a salve, or a potion to relieve him of this constant heartache. I wish I could make it all go away. I want to shake somebody who I have never met, and spit on them. I do. That sounds so terrible. So awful. I hurt just saying it.

I am tired of seeing that look in David's eyes. I am tired of seeing his already pronounced brow, furrowing further and further down upon his eyes. I am saddened by the anger in his eyes, and the sadness in his voice.

We stood in the kitchen, and there it was. The painful problem, with no sane solution. No real beginning. No end in sight.

Have a good day, I said.

What else is left to say?

Today, feeling as strong and as powerful as I do, I am thankful that a country separates me, and this stranger.