Apologies

kathrin irons numbers onto her jersey for vollyball. lisa comes home, her arms wrecked from climbing at the gym. i'm home from dinner with rachel, her mom, and ed. the first real meal i've gotten down since thursday. stomach's been acting up. i've been trying to put some things to bed that weren't feeling tired. things that want to stay up and cry and kick and wail. quiet, please, they're napping now, these things. it took forever to get them down. since april. since november.

we sit on the sofa, lisa, kathrin, and me, watching charlie sheen on a sitcom. laughing at how the commercials are funnier than the shows. just dumb television. happy to have something to distract us from our weight. we fit, the three of us. i look around the room. max the poodle flopped on his bed, kathrin and lisa smiling and sad at the same time. i laugh cause i'm smiling and sad.

charlie sheen jabbers about seagulls while my mind wanders to the emails i sent saturday. i opened up a little. wrote people i haven't felt able to. people i've been afraid of. cheryl had said, "what you wanted was family" and all these tiny cogs clicked into place. not that i didn't know that i wanted a family someday, but i didn't match that vague need with what i lost in last year's relationship disaster. and they fit perfectly. last year i found my family, my ability to make family, to be husband and father, and lost it to circumstances none of us forsaw. and now i don't know. i've still got that ability. that's not lost. i still have that need, even if i'm not ready to look at it. so now what? send some emails and say you're sorry and what? what can you say?

there's a tragically hip song i quote often;

"there's no simple explanation for anything important any of us do, and yea, the human tragedy consists in the necessity of living with the consequences under pressure."

and fuck it. you just do the best you can. and apologize when that's not very good.

i retreat to my room to fold laundry and listen to neil young. i haven't put harvest moon in since april.

neil sings, "i never saw a woman look finer // i used to order just to watch her float across the floor." and i turn it down a little. things are sleeping. let's let them rest.

it's almost yom kippur, so i'd like to say i'm sorry. for the things i've done this year to hurt you. whether i meant to or not. whether i knew about it or not. i'm sorry. i hope you'll forgive me because i forgive you.