licking the glass

My heart already knew what my head did not. He was leaving again. 
In the same phone call to tell me he is leaving he also let me know the Moab job is ready for him ASAP.

And then it all made sense.

Today is not going to be easy to sort out. Everything I need is in place: a babysitter for Beach, a costume (at least in theory), a date (if my oldest kid counts as a date), and a good party to attend with great friends. Yes, everything... except.

Well, except me.

  I feel a little further out in the room than I find comfortable. I get that pesky feeling I should just shut up for a few weeks. Find a corner and stand in it. 

I've called out too many favors, accepted too many kindnesses, leaned too hard on the people around me- although they might not have any idea of it. Or, perhaps they are sick of it too but are too nice to say anything. 

 I suppose I feel like that one lady buying cat food and canned soup at the grocery store on Christmas Eve. Or a photo bomber on other peoples lives.

I had wondered about the sanity of the surgical intern who liked to lick the glass of the window in front of my desk. I think now more than anything I admire his honesty, at very least his immune system. 

I am sure it's normal for one to wonder 'is it me?', after all I seem to keep ending up standing in the same spot- alone in the crowd.