the loving-2

i can hear her. i. can feel her feet writhing through the blankets, toes battering against my calves and shins. debra uses her hands as battering rams against my arms and torso. i want to hold her through it all. i want to kiss her on the left cheek and whisper, 'all ok' into her ears. i want it to be ok, but she is going.

i tried once, when i was naive, to grab her to hold her, to try and soothe her. she screamed and launched herself from the bed. she muttered and spun towards the door but in the dark found a nightstand. she raced towards a freedom away from me only to trip only to moan and bleed in a tangled mass on the floor.

i never ask if she knows me. i don't want the answer. i know when the fog has settled in. debra has green eyes when clear and steel grey when confused. at night when she attacks, at night when she mutters and smashses against me i lay still, i absorb it, i try to slow my breath and become a ghost. try to become a piece of furniture that she can find some comfort in. she is old, we are old and tire easy.

i will sleep eventually. i will be rocked by her blows into sleep. the things we get used to, the things we accept by our loves or life partners. i will be rocked by my wife of thirty five years. i will be rocked until the fury is gone and we will sleep. her voice will still and her head will find my chest her breath painting my neck her saliva slowly staining my shirt. it is here in the quiet that i know love does not get sick just locked up and guarded abused but never killed.

down the hall in the heavy sleep of youth is our grand daughter. down the hall with thin limbs tangled in a hand made quilt she dreams. she is innocent. she has never waited or never noticed when she calls grandma to come. it is summer vacation and it is nearing it's end and i spend my time in prayer. i pray to god the storm will wait until she is home, back in school. i pray this summer is the great memories she will carry of grandma for life.

in the dark her head heavy and warm. i pray.