Last night was a night of ghosts and echoes. A fun time, if intense and scary, and once, looking over my shoulder, I espied ... an echo from two, three years back, the sound and setting the same, and it was a hurtful time that came rushing back when I wasn't surrounded and safe and distracted. And like a fool, on seeing dusty baggage peeking out from under the bed, I tucked it back under.

But once I find a pain, I have to work it, like a charley horse, and this time, like that far-off, echoed time, I shared it, and cried. But it was better now, as it was only an echo, as I was surrounded by more who knew me more, as I had more words and more tools -- and it was a mourning pain, a hearkened pain, but nothing that would make or break. Not any more.

And we slept, late and short, on the cold ground, my growing, shifting love-klatch and I, and it was beautiful. Today my cold has returned, and I feel like I have been scraped with a razor. Not bleeding, but sore, sensitized, cautious. When it heals, I will be better able to say what is me and what is outside me, and keep them as apart as I wish, and no more.

What is true is I love Ben. And Cassie. And Zach. And Amy. And Tom and Julie and Greg and Sher and Calvin and Kai and Erika and Reaps and maybe Bill a little, too, now. And others in the network that weren't there. What is true is that I resent that processing never ends. What is true is that I sometimes wish I had someone for whom I was the first-most-best. What is true is that I sometimes want to go somewhere and NOT share my toys. What is true is that I am blissfully happy, and enjoy the company of my Ka-tet, though where the road we tread goes I know not. And when they are happy, I enjoy that. And when I can feel safe to trust them with my pain, my gray hairs, my belly, my baggage, my awkwardness and my failings, I am safe indeed.

And now -- I will spend a time a-bed, or a-couch, with Mr. King and his fine, strange words, and wonder if anyone will visit, though I am not dressed, not showered, and have not brushed my teeth. I will not read my mail, complain about housework, worry about anything. And perhaps it would be good if I sleep.

23November2003