That Time of the Night

At that time of the night
When streetlights throw crosses through window frames
Paranoia roams where the shadows reign
Oh, at that time of the night
At that time of the night
Your senses tangled in some new perfume
Criticism triggers of a loaded room
Oh, at that time of the night

So if you ask me
How do I feel inside
I could honestly tell you
We’ve been taken on a very long ride
And if my owners let me
Have some free time some day
With all good intention
I would probably run away
Clutching the short straw
- Marillion

Got a load of dishes done. Folded 3 loads of laundry. Paid bills. Got the ball rolling on a refi for the house. Assembled the dog kennel for night use (he's getting into stuff while we're asleep - stuff that will make him sick). Talked to the accountant. Got the car washed. Helped my brother replace his car battery. Made a hot dinner for three. Went to rehearsal.

Now I'm sitting in bed trying to type through a goddamn tear parade. WTF??? Is it going to be impossible to have a productive day without breaking down? I know why - it's because I don't have Sam to talk to and confide in and congratulate me when I get everything done on my list.

I am so not looking forward to September 29th this year - would have been our 15th wedding anniversary. Kayleigh's birthday is the day after. Then we go into all the holidays - our first without Sam. The kids' first without mommy. First Halloween (sacred to Sam & I as Celtic New Year), first Thanksgiving (she loved to host), first Christmas (ugh - I can't even think about that one), first New Year (where's my kiss??).

Having friends - close friends like I do - is great. But it often makes the fact that my closest friend is gone that much more unbearable. I would do anything to have her back for one night... to cuddle, to kiss, to hold her hand in mine, to feel her breath on my neck, to make love to. So bloody unfair.

Meanwhile the Jerry Springer Show across the street from us has had two police calls and two ambulance calls in the last month. There's a grandma, a Jethro, his waif-like, chain-smoking girlfriend, and their toddler. Their fights are audible down the street, and they have a motorhome, an old minivan and two primered pickups with plywood walls in the driveway. Most of the time Jethro walks around in one of two NBA uniforms he owns (sporting his impressive gut and redneck tan), or drives around in one of the trucks, chortling like an idiot. Is Jethro aware of the awesome gift he's been given? Does he live every day to its fullest? Does he rejoice in the love of a woman (preferably not when he's smacking her around)?

I'd be lying if I said my relationship with Sam was perfect. There's no such animal. We had our bumpy rides, but they were few and far between, and we always moved through them with love and respect for the other. As far as I'm concerned, we did everything right. We approached life with a positive attitude and a house full of love. We set good examples of respect and intelligent discourse for our children. We ADORED each other.

And Jethro hits his kid and ambulances come, and smoking waif stays with him, and he just prances along, alive as the next guy.

This is one of those nights where I'm convinced there's no fucking justice in the world.