Latin Mass

There is this crux point every night when I know if I'm going to sleep or not.

I doesn't matter what else has happened earlier in the night either. 

Sometimes the comfort of sitting on the couch with b. will knock me out at like 7.  But then I put the kids to sleep and I feel it.  This pressing need to get things done.  This lingering fear that there just isn't enough time in the day.  That I'm not going to have a chance to finish that book, that movie, that album, that paragraph that is stuck in my head.  Something is dragging me up.  Hauling me away from the rest that I'm sure I need.

And it seems like the only time I can sleep is when the bed isn't empty.

How many nights have I just stayed up until one of the kids woke up and crawled into bed with me?  How easily would I sleep if there were any warm body in bed with me?  I thought that I knew who I wanted that person to be, but I couldn't have been more wrong.  Seeing J. tonight I realized that I have nothing left for her.  I can hardly have a conversation with her without being irritated by her immaturity.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not the grand master of maturity, but I have lived.  And for the most part that living has led me into interesting interests.  She has zero.  

Mae Culpa, Mae Culpa, Mae Maxima Culpa.

Absolve Me.  My most grievous error.

I don't regret my children.  I regret my marriage.  And now I know what I have always been searching for.  The one that I was hunting for when J. crossed paths with my lecherous mind.  Chalk one up to listening to the "small head."  Savvy?

So I'm past the crux point.  I have a book to read.  I finished two movies, and one with my kids.  And Mos Def is giving me what for.  It looks like I will be writing a lot again this weekend.  Thank God I have that to keep me company late at night.

I wish I had her...

But I can wait.

File under Vice.