That being said, I don’t think I cry like everyone else. I rarely shed tears, but I know I could if I let myself. There are days though, when I can’t hold back the flood, and yesterday was one of them.
It started when Mrs. Bird man started sending photos and videos from my sister’s house. Her and the girls with my niece and nephew in various poses. So cute, and I have to get this all via Whatsapp, because I stupidly traveled like 4200 kms to go to work. Of course I then started thinking about how awesome it would be to be there, throwing the kids around, and having a visit with my sister and her husband. We would then get the girls in the van, and drive the ten minutes home, to put the kids in bed, and maybe grab a snack for the cocoon. It was right about then that I came to, and realized that I’m sitting in a truck beside a massive man-made pond, and waiting for the Chin to get the hell out of my way (stupid Mack truck takes forever to load). That’s when it started. Tears began to flow, and I wanted so badly to be home, curled up with my baby, talking, frolicking , and laughing. I miss her so bad that I get angry at my decision to come here. I think that I’d rather be living in a storage unit in Port Hope, and begging for change on the street, than be sitting at this desk, beside this crappy camp bed, 4700 kms from my sweet baby’s arms. I know that it’s not as bad as I think, but it sure seems pretty awful when you’re going through it. I guess maybe it’s crazy to love and miss someone this much. I know that I’ve never felt this torn apart before, unless you count the time that our whole family went to Toronto and stayed in the Delta Chelsea Hotel.
Us kids were dropped off at the daycare, and that was where I fell in love for the first time. I don’t even know how old I was, but it would have been around ten I guess. I really don’t remember much more than she was beautiful, and let me play with the tape recorder that had three cassettes with it. The Monkees, Elvis, and The Oak Ridge Boys. Pure fucking gold, that was. I remember when it was time to leave, I freaked out. I cried like my family was being taken to a prison camp or something else that’s equally horrific. I had finally found true love, and these bastards were trying to take it away from me. I screamed out that we should just live there and we could go to the daycare every day, but no one was falling for my bullshit. (I may have just guessed at what I said, because really, I can’t remember my own age half the time, let alone what I said thirty years ago)
The point that I’ll probably never get around to making, is that when you find that kindred spirit, that soulmate, that person that loves your brand of crazy because it melts into theirs, you shouldn’t just fuck off for a few months, and think it will be okay. I know our relationship will be fine, maybe even better, if that’s possible, but our emotional well being is what’s compromised. I feel almost like I did when I was having anxiety attacks and had to go on citalopram for three months, just to stop myself from pulling over on the side of the road and crying until I couldn’t breathe. Well, maybe it isn’t that bad, but it sure could be if I let it. I almost feel like I have stalker love for her, but without the energy to actually do any stalking. I would think that this is an unhealthy feeling, except she seems to feel the same way, so yippee, I think that they call this love.
I am going to try talking Mrs. B into letting us give cocooning lessons to single women, so that they can prepare themselves for when they meet that special friend.We will start with them sitting in a chair and watching, and if it feels right, they could climb on in for the practical. Hey can’t blame a guy for trying, right?
Johnny’s daddy was taking him fishing, when he was eight years old,