Rosie and I are visiting an old friend of mine, out in mountain country. She lives in a rambling, two-floor property, with lacquered pine floors and a covered veranda. The garden drops away below the house and ends in a wall of trees. The night sky is filled with stars – millions of them – staring down at us like tiny gods.
This is the first time I`ve slept in weeks. I mean really slept. I`ve had 10, 11, even 12 hours of unbroken sleep per night. So has Rosie. Must be the mountain air. And the fact that Ben is locked away safely in detox.
The other day, my friend and her little girl took us out trekking. We wandered through wooded paths, negotiating mud, wobbly logs and startled frogs. Below us, the rapids foamed.
We were intrigued by the variety of fungus scalloping up trees or springing out from the undergrowth. Tiny bright green mushrooms stood up pert in the soil, made all the tinier by giant beige toadstools. And then there were the shiny carnelian and yellow mushrooms, catching the light and ornamenting the landscape like poppies.
Later that night I sat on my friend`s front porch, watching the stars and listening to the ubiquitous call of the crickets. Still later, she and I sat on the covered veranda, chatting by candlelight, calmly dissecting the conundrum that is Ben and me. In the end, the solutions we came up with were familiar. But the fact that they were said out loud makes them more real, more demanding of some kind of accountability.
Meanwhile, I have been emailing Ben, feeding him news of Rosie`s and my exploits. Once he enters rehab, there will be no e-contact. For 28 days, he will have no outside contact at all, aside from the occasional phone call. So, I suppose I shouldn`t have been surprised when I received an email yesterday in which he said that once he was off his meds, he would be allowed to go out for a few hours. He said he might go back to the flat to collect some things for rehab.
Within moments of reading that email, my calm was shattered, if temporarily. I guess I don`t have much energy left to put in to his recovery any more. I still managed to get about 8 hours of sleep. And while I am a bit worried, I can`t help feeling it is really out of my hands.
Outside the window – outside my friend`s home office – the crickets are still singing and the trees – firs and birches – fill the window. Beyond, the view is long and open.
- Flight of the monarch (marriedtoalcoholic.wordpress.com)
- Soft landing (marriedtoalcoholic.wordpress.com)