Heart of the Meteor
I struggle at times to identify my exact thoughts and emotions. The week flew by without a hint of the usual pangs that stir, pulling at my guts, when I miss the kids. I'm not sure why and frankly, it scares the shit out of me—this unexpected numbness.
Jacob is headed for high school in September and I know—I know—this is one last summer of innocence for us. I can feel it, like some low hum rattling my ribcage. Maybe the numbness is a safety mechanism, some natural anaesthetic as my heart prepares for the tether's inevitable rupture. Maybe I'm just weary after all we've been through. Or maybe I'm overthinking this. But it's puzzling and unsettling and I can't quite grasp what it all means. It's called Life bucko...sure, yeah.
We ride the highway until it's all a blur; east and west, west and east...repeat. We find the heart of the meteor where mountains froze and land was scarred. Five trajectories in lockstep—for now.