a moment

Thank you all for your comments to my last post. It's nice to know I'm not alone. I feel alone in my mind, alone in my house, sometimes. My husband, as wonderful and loving as he is, is not very emotionally connected to anything beyond his love for me. I've only seen him cry three times (once when he thought we were breaking up a long long time ago, once when we moved to London and he said goodbye to his little brother, and when his Grandmother died last July, but that was only for a second). He laughs a lot, gets angry on occasion, but he hardly ever gets sad. I know for a fact it's not that he's hiding it-- he just truly does not get sad. He's somehow learned not to dwell, not to worry. Even on my darkest days he makes me smile, he reminds me that nothing is really that bad. So he's good to have around. But I needed that reminder that I, in fact, am not alone in feeling that profound, sudden, unexplained sadness that comes over me. Thank you.

My head has been hurting since yesterday afternoon. It's so frustrating. If I'm doing something, concentrating on the words flowing from my mind to my fingertips through the keyboard and out into the world to you, I don't hurt. As soon as I stop, as soon as my fingers quiet and I look up from the screen, it pounds, pulses with my blood through my forehead and behind my eyes. I've done nothing all day, which has been very nice actually, but it would have been nicer if I hadn't been in pain the whole time. 

There are worse things in the world, just not in my world, not at this moment.

My parents are traveling out west right now, and they sent me a couple of their pictures tonight. My dad is an amazing photographer and is having the time of his life. Looking at this one is so peaceful, I can't imagine what it was like to be there.