naptime

long morning...two job interviews, trimmed Mom and Dad's yard, moved stuff in and out of the attic, mowed Grandma's yard and worked some more on the promo and editing of books. I am dripping sweat and skin oils, tired, aching and ready for a shower.

busy busy busy busy.

looking forward, perversely enough, to the grave (with a sense of humour). I can rest then...until then, though, there will be no peace.

A question was posed to me last night by an old friend: if things go well, what will I do when shadows of the past return and want back in for their share of the ride?

The answer is easy, greatly simplified by my ethos and theology (one of the value in having values, it simplifies tough problems). I will do what I can for them. But I don't think anyone will be "let in" again. I have discovered that I am too poor a judge of character and intentions, and part of developing coping mechanisms is learning who not to sit next, and who not to lie down next to. Or you don't sit. Or don't lie down.

I once counseled a young woman when I worked at Sunrise House. She was 15 and doing meth, nightly. Why was she doing it? She was homeless and afraid of what might happen to her if she fell asleep in some strange place at night. She would sleep during the day, in public places, then tweak all night to avoid sleeping.

While never one for drugs; in a philosphical way, I understand her, very well, now.

"and God sleeps with one eye open, tonight"...the darker angels, William F. Devault (from "from an unexpected quarter")