VerySo

Since the divorce the kids have done their own laundry, but this afternoon Ivy was invited to the movies with a friend unexpectedly and so I retrieved her clothes from the dryer while she was gone. I don’t remember the last time a pair of pants in this house ended in T, when they moved to the adults section it all runs together. Three black sweatshirts, pajama bottoms, and shorts. You’d think it would’ve made a dent, back then, back when, had I known it was the last pair of kid pants I’d fold.  Oh, maybe it did. 

 It's 6:13 am. I've been up for about an hour or more, tossing, turning. It finally sank in and I believed myself when I say over and over, "You're safe, baby. You're safe." I claim this early morning, short glass of cold brew, under blanket on the couch as much-needed. I am very deficient in alone time. I'm not alone, in a house full of sleeping people. But it is the closest I will get for now.  It's dark, pitch black in the kitchen. The glow from the streetlight behind my house shows that fog is heavy and low and engulfing the houses behind mine. I wish for this moment to last all day.  I want to write and tell you everything. If I show all my cards, could it harm me? What I am asking is... what am I asking?