My Best Friend

I’ve added tutoring to my day. Why? Well, I’m still unsure as to whether I’ll have this job in a few weeks. If I don’t, I’ll need the tutoring to help us get by. But for now, on Mondays and Wednesdays, I finish up work and go to the library to tutor for 2 1/2 hours. I get home around 7 p.m.  I’ve got more curriculum to edit. I have a test to write.

When I get home, the girls crawl into my lap eager for the attention they’re not used to missing yet. Paul gears up for another week working in the valley. This week, he’ll take all the girls because I have conferences from 8 to 8 Wednesday and Thursday.

Sometimes, when I drive, I have a few moments to think. I try and move my novel forward but I find it hard to find where I’m at. I’ve actually had a really hard time thinking at all.

I have people I wish I could connect with — Maria in Spain, my grandparents, my sister, my parents, my BFF Robin, and they all feel like a million miles away because I’m trying to find the surface so I can breath.

I don’t feel like leaping from the cliff anymore. It’s like I changed my mind mid-jump. I’m clinging to the side of the cliff with no way either up or down. I’m just stuck.

Paul is my sanity in all of this. If I had someone demanding, nit-picky, and complaining … someone like myself maybe … I couldn’t handle it. Already, I face daily headaches. My throat hurts from trying to talk over 38 kids that don’t care to listen. My shoulders ache from the tension of trying to keep it all balanced.

Paul is steady. Quiet. Understanding. Supportive. Hard-working. He’s my best friend.

When we first were looking at rings, we had a guy try and sell us one that didn’t fit who we were. I said, “It looks like a ….” and Paul finished my sentence for me … “an insurance building.” It was a random thing to say, but just what I was going to say. I looked at him in that newlywed way that says, “you understand me,” which also means, “you love me.”

Paul is still finishing my sentences. We’re of the same mind.  He believes that we should cling to our dreams. Maybe we’ll leap from the cliff. Maybe we’ll begin the slow climb back up. I’m not sure yet. But I know that we’ll do it together. Somehow, that makes all the difference.

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