It’s not a light at the end of the tunnel, more a light at the edge of the horizon– the same sort of hope, but not quite. Because tunnels are directional and horizons move, and I’m never quite as home on the sea as I mean to be.
It’s only been two weeks, but things are starting to settle in to the patterns I need them to. I’ve dealt with being one-half of a family before, left behind to keep things moving forward while my other half is a world away (Well, three-fifths a world at least). So it’s familiar this time, the rhythms I fall into when there’s no one else to pick up the slack.
Still, with three dogs, a house, an elderly cat, a job, and a back that has decided that bending at the waist is an optional past-time– the boat is doing a bit more rocking than I’d like. I have no idea how people with children and full-time jobs manage, I’m floundering enough without having to care for anything sentient (myself included)!
But thanks to living in an internet age, I know that my other half is safe and sound and as long as I don’t manage to burn the house down it’ll all turn out okay.
And on that note, I’m going to go check the oven…