PlazaJen: Passion Knit

My dad used to call me "Fogbanks" when I was a teenager; I was always preoccupied with what was going on in my head more than the world around me. These days, I have quite a few fogbank days, sometimes it helps me manage to get through the whole day without crying, because I feel like just a small part of me isn't paying attention to everything going on.

It comes with a price tag, and it usually means I crack at night, lying in bed, so tired and yet still unable to sleep. I went to bed unusually early last night, but was still awake when James came in. He commented on how I was in bed so early, and I weepily replied in the dark that I was tired & sad. He climbed in next to me & put his best bear hug on me.

"You know, I think this whole thing really has brought us closer together. Just when I thought I couldn't love you any more than I already do, a giant dump truck of love put another big load in my heart."

My tears became a mixture of sadness and gratitude. Then he started making country music songs out of "dump truck of loooooove". And the fog was gone and I wasn't standing on the edge any longer, and even though I was still crying, I was also incredibly calmed inside. I will get through this because we will get through it. Together.