I have some injuries that are external and what is interesting to me is that they both came to the surface today.  Today was the day that she told me that she just needs more time and that she doesn’t have it, so she has no expectations.  I think that is the let you down easy e-mail, but not to put a finer point on it, all I had asked is if she was still in love with me and would go to counseling?  I didn’t ask anything else and I drove home nearly three weeks ago when she was too “sick and tired” to have sex after we hadn’t the night before either.  It’s simple.  She does not see me as a priority.  That’s fine.  I can bounce.

So, my quadricep looks like someone has burst Easter Egg dye under it from the knee up, and my big toe is loosing the toenail on the other foot.  Both of these areas were killing me since last Wednesday, and today, it is obvious due to disgustingness and the pools of blood under the other that they are starting to heal.  I don’t believe in coincidences, so I know that it is me who was carrying around pain and now; although, it still does hurt to walk, I will heal.  I think that I can sit on a bike seat, so a friend of mine and I are going to take a long bike ride tomorrow.

She was shocked (again) when I said, “OK.  Glad that you have thought through as much as you have time for.  Best wishes and have a good summer.”  She wants to hang out, but I know that she won’t because I sure as hell will not drive up there and know that when the plans are not hers that she will not follow through.  I would be astonished if she came down here for dinner–although I am an excellent cook–so in a couple of weeks she’ll say, “Meet me halfway for a bike ride,” and I will tell her the truth.  It seems stupid to put your bike in a car, waste gas, and then have to drive back.  I’ll use the ample trails that I have which begin feet from my door, and I also plan on doing more road biking with my son’s Godfather who can mentor me.

We shall see…  I am pretty sure that I get her.  I’m going back to hang time to get over her.  Remember in “In the Bedroom” when the father’s hand heals?  Maybe when most of the purple fades from my wrecked thigh or I have new growth on the other injury that I’m sporting, I can say, “It’s over.”  Right now, I hurt, am still moving, but will be nothing but honest with myself.

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