Sharp Cheddar
Mid-week and how did I get here, a deep breath between Monday and Wednesday, and I'm thinking about what I need to do once I get to work this morning. For now, I've taken care of an emergency shopping refilling the house with bottles of water, sliced turkey for sandwiches, and a block of sharp cheddar to use in the fixings for dinner this evening. The rush of daily requirements like a wave wash over my head.

The secret, older kids told me at the beach when I was younger, is to dive right into the wave.

My water metaphors toggle between ocean and river as I'm about to go over the Class 6 rapid of a mediated divorce. I want to be sure to wear a life jacket and to have a spare in the trunk of my car.

The river runs into the ocean. One of these days I'll be on a raft to somewhere. But on the other hand, I'm not looking to be rescued.

Yesterday Lawrence called about some business between us that turned into a slightly elongated conversation shape-shifting into our different issues. It's curious to me how love can become a travesty of itself, or maybe we become more complex and our sensibility grows into a fuller palette.

I never wanted to change Lawrence. I always thought that love was its own motivation to change. Now I understand that our ability to change has nothing to do with another person, no matter how much we love them.