Hello Old Friend

Absent for a spell, returning for a brief visit; or an extended one perhaps. Remember how it felt when you had a friend for the summer. And you went to separate schools when the Fall Leaves turned orange. You were close. And you tried to keep in touch. You promised you would. "I always say that, but this time will be different. We can't forget." Then you do. They do too. But you still feel like you let them down. It's hard to call. So you don't, which makes picking up the phone even more difficult the next time you think about it. And a week goes by. Then two. Then a month. And it's awkward when you finally reach out. So here I am. Reaching out. I'm the fucking Gingerbread Man. And I've run and run as fast as I can, and no one has been able to catch me... Don't ask, I have no idea how I pulled a Gingerbread Man reference into this. *If I'm speaking to anyone at all* The girls sit at the kitchen table. They're painting. And quiet. And happy. New experiences at school inspire growth that even scares me. They're little people. And they talk and reason and argue points relative to the topic. I can barely talk and reason and argue points relative to the topic. And I do stupid things. I accepted what appeared to be the perfect job. I walked on the clouds high above all of you. Demanding respect. And envy. I was so fucking together and I had to walk off the job in four days. With no other job lined up. Bottom line, (don't you hate bullshit corporate expressions?) is this: They threw a lot of money at me. Financial stability. And opportunity. I would finally be somebody. What they didn't throw was an accurate picture of the commitment. And I didn't ask all the questions I needed to. They plan on 72 hour work-weeks. They plan on taking me away from the girls. They plan on taking me away from love and enjoyment and living. They plan on owning me. I disagree with their plans and say, "Bottom line, (I love using their expressions against them) is this: you can stick your plans in your collective ass." I told them so. Without the stick or collective or ass. But I did make my point, and walked away on a Monday afternoon. Before traffic. Please, no worries, (I'm a little worried) a few fantastic opportunities have appeared on the horizon. There's no need to sell my soul to the Devil just yet.

As for the Love, "it's real and it lasts a long, long time," it's still there. And it's bigger. And stronger. And keeps growing. To the point that I get scared. I consider myself a fairly secure person. And I'm scared. Like nothing I've ever felt. And I have asked all the questions I've needed to.