If I had a word that might sum up my year, it might be “loss” or “overwhelmed” or a phrase like “stressed to the max” or “we are not amused” or “Enough already!” or “Okay, I’m not fucking kidding, STOP! NOW!”
Maybe David heard me turning over or maybe he figured one good wake up deserves another, but the next thing I knew, he was standing beside our bed. On my side. I could feel his presence. I pretended I was still asleep.
The fact that I’m a 51-year-old woman in 2016 obsessing over a 26-year-old man, circa 1972, which would have made me 7-years-old then, and who makes him 70-years-old now, has me slightly worried. I should know better.
I’m currently sitting in Room 313 at the Holiday Inn Express in McComb, Mississippi. My son is sleeping, my husband is out working on his latest claim, and I’ve been mulling over what “vacation” truly means.