Archive for change

Concern

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 17, 2011 by aaronsummac

This.

This was in my inbox today. I don’t understand it, not completely, but I think I understand some of it.

I have a few personal days off from work, and I’m thinking of taking them. But I don’t want to leave and be wrong.

Can you understand if I think this is a trap? I think baits been laid and I’m being coaxed from cover. But by the same token, I have to be able to get him back. Have to. And wherever she is, she needs to be let out. No one deserves to be stuck there.

Not even her.

He Was Here

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on February 1, 2011 by aaronsummac

After Blake’s call, I left the front door unlocked. It was hard to convince myself that I should, but I didn’t expect to sleep. And I suppose I expected that, if I did fall asleep, I would wake with him at my side. Instead, i woke to this… note on the seat of the couch beside me.

I don’t understand why he didn’t stay. I don’t understand. But I do know that some of his clothing has been taken from the dresser, and his cologne and phone are gone from the bed-side table. He’s taking a trip. He promises to come home, and if I just keep things together on this end so he has a home to return to, all will be well. All will be well.

But I cannot leave here. I can’t go now, knowing that he might come soon, that he plans to come back eventually. I have to keep myself calm. I cannot stay locked in this apartment, mooning over thoughts of where he is and with whom. I have to return to work, pretend this is normal, pretend everything is alright.

And then he’ll come home.

Unfound

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on October 15, 2010 by aaronsummac

There are doors, many open but most closed. It is right that they remain closed. We don’t need to see what lies behind their sturdy barricades.

As days crawl by, each shorter and darker than the last, the thing I cling to most is this: most of the doors are still closed.

But I keep thinking of Quill and how the door was closed, the basement door was closed and locked, and how she was out when we came back.

Is a closed door really so much security, even one that is as locked and barred as these are supposed to be? Graviora manent; Nemo ante mortem beatu.

A cat’s collarbone is not connected to other bones in its body, instead buried in the muscle of the cat’s shoulder. This allows a cat to slip through any opening the size of its head — Quill was locked in the basement when we left the house, and through strength and acrobatic flexibility, she managed to squeeze between the door and the wall, straining the door against it’s chain lock.

Most doors are kept closed, but it is really so hard to imagine that something on the other side could, like a cat, squeeze itself through the cracks? Something thin and flexible and hungry which, sniffing long enough around the edges of its door, has smelled good prey and comes now to hunt.