I Have Met the Enemy, and It Is Me. I Am Her. Whatever.

I think we have hit a wall.

As mentioned in a previous post, we will win no Best Tourists Ever Awards. Too Lazy.

We might end up in a Lonely Planet guide, but more often on someone's front porch or backyard swingset with a  beer or a muffin or a coffee or whatever.

Well, all of this (non)activity has hit me square between the eyes here in DC.

Maybe it was the 800-mile walk yesterday.

Or the two museums punctuated by a one-hour sit eating ice cream on a bench.

Whatevs.

Guess what? When you are on the road for long enough, the person you aren't really interested in being catches up to you. And that's where I am.

I figured out that I am not really trying to escape the reality of Dane's death; he has been in my dreams, voiceless, for the past three nights, and every morning when I wake up I am well aware that he is not here.

I am trying to leave parts of myself behind. Refashioning myself back to Me after no longer being We. Getting rid of the annoying parts that crop up in a relationship because they are necessary or habit or whatever. The parts that are no longer necessary when the relationship is terminal (pun intended).

Well, turns out that's a pretty hard thing to do.

So here we are at a wall. With a teenager who is fully a teenager (although I am grateful for the excellent human she is, she is still a teenager), no desire to go home but no desire to stay on the road but no desire to go home, formless, aimless. No energy to get up, sleeping poorly. No desire to do much but with an overwhelming feeling of wasted time, accompanied by the overwhelming feeling that it is all of it pretty pointless anyway.

I am trying to be gentle with myself, enjoy my nieces and nephew, be grateful. I take it out too much on The Child. With so much swirling it's hard to make the important thing the important thing when the important thing is amorphous and shifting.

I have met the enemy. I am sick to death of war.