A Shell Game...

It is a shell game. It feels that way sometimes. I am here trying to get through each and every day. We have a busy schedule, some is unavoidable, but some is self imposed. Self imposed because I have to fill the days and the hours both for the girls and for myself. So we keep busy. We keep moving, I find things to keep the girls busy during the week, and try to find things to keep my mind busy. I know it is a big shell game. We all know the ball is hidden there but we keep moving those shells around and around to keep us distracted. Then something will happen to rock my boat. It can come from the oddest place. Something can hit a chord, something from television, something someone says. It is then that I realize how tenuous it all really is. How everything is just below the surface. I was watching a show the other evening where someone was commenting to the husband that his wife was very strong and did he ever find that threatening. He responded by telling the other person that he was her husband, and it was his job to make her feel safe. That she had taken care of herself since she was young, and that it made her feel safe to organize and control her environment, including him. That as her husband it was his job to make her feel safe, and that he loved her and he could give her that. He has always been that husband. He has always understood me, and has never been threatened by it. So I sat in my living room, watching this show, with tears running down my face, and sobbing, just sobbing. I had been moving those shells back and forth, and all around, knowing that ball was under there somewhere, but not knowing when I would uncover it. And there on the couch long after the girls were in bed, it appeared. I know it is there, hidden from sight, and things keep moving and shifting, but sooner or later it will be revealed. It is all about odds.