I was just busy packing away. Constantly thinking I was forgetting something.
“Why is there still so much room?”
Usually, the van would just be packed full with barely any room for the kids in the back. Even for a small trip like this one. Our first in over two years now. Without even thinking, I threw the tent and lantern on one of back seats, still clueless as to why I would be able to see a little out the back window.
Then it hit me after verbalizing my concerns a couple times. Maybe Dylan would have gone on this short getaway. He had been on many before.
As I rode up to Heritage park well into the back half of a challenging bike ride, I thought or might have even said under my breathe, “It took me a while today, but I made it.” I just started crying. It was the first time in quite a while. As I continued on with the hot air evaporating my tears, I found myself angry, and trying to shove square pegs into round holes as I listened to “You Satellite” by Wilco. “Dammit, this song is too good to be about TV or giving away your songs or control over content. It just has to be. It has to fit somewhere with what I going through.” I bend the lyrics. I try to make my own. I try…
“Could genes have changed any failure?”
“Sometimes I don’t care lately.”
“I have become a calendar while I am waiting.”
…and find myself as directionless as ever. Maybe more so.
“I don’t want to go and I don’t want to stay.”
Sometimes, I think I have tried and failed to fill the void, where I normally would see if Dylan wanted to go with me somewhere. I really hate not having that option. I can’t really think of a time when he said no, unless he had to work. Sometimes, it seems to work for a while. Other times, it make me think about him more.
