Simone's asleep.
I'm listening to her light exhales (and occasional Borealis-deforming snores). Night sounds. If it were spring, I'd crack a window and listen to the peepers paper the darkness with longing.
Each time she breathes I murmur thank you. It's a form of meditation = "beditation."
It's my desperate, deformed effort to be grateful to my wife, my lover, to my trust-companion for 30-plus years; to her parents; to my parents; to all those who've helped me along. I don't know who I'm thanking anymore, exactly; hundreds have urged me in the right direction. In a shambles mood, I feel like I've gone out of my way to disappoint lots of them.
In a shambles mood, those I've helped wouldn't fill a cup.
Those I've hurt might fill a hall.
Maybe thanking Simone each time she breathes is compensation of sorts. Stay haunted; it's what you have. Thank you. It's a super-power. Thank you. And you have Simone. Breathing. Thank you.
And now maybe she needs me. Because something happened....