we leave just before it's gone

There's a gentle breeze blowing through the window, keeping the place from becoming stifling. It occurs to me today that the summer is really just starting, and yet, for me, it is coming to a close. And I am rather ready for it.

I am feeling rather paralyzed. I have to finish making the cake. The frosting is finished, the ice cream that goes in the middle is finished. And it's hot and I don't feel like getting started, but I know I ought to suck it up. That's what the end of the summer, and the end of things in general, feels like-- so close to complete, and yet I am kept from finishing because of weariness, laziness, or just the passing of time.

There is a good chance a rift will finally be acknowledged this weekend between me and my oldest friend. We are both avoiding it, passive-aggressively leaving phone calls unanswered, using other things- school, work, children, cell phone reception, gas prices- as excuses. But I think we both know, and I think we are both holding ourselves back.

I don't really know how people live like this for an extended amount of time. The broseph and I recently had a long chat about a significant impasse he has reached with his SO. To me, it all seemed awfully painful, to know there is this disagreement that can neither be resolved nor be set aside. All the more painful when you do not otherwise want an exit route. I know that some people live lifetimes with these kinds of disagreements between them, but I suppose I never appreciated what a major undertaking it is until recently.

It's really rather unbearable. The easy route is to vilify the other, congratulate yourself. But easy is not right in all cases. And really, I don't see how it would make things all that much easier in the long run. If you have known someone for so long, cared about them so much, what good is it to think that this whole time, you were attached to a scoundrel? It's no better than the reality, it seems to me, and the reality is that suddenly, who knows how, this wide and halting chasm spreads out between us. I don't know how to cross it, I don't know how to make it right. It's like my arms used to be longer, and I used to be able to reach out across the great divide and pull us closer together.

And now, unexpectedly, it's not just that I can't stretch like before. It's more that I am afraid I am grasping for nothing but air. The cheesy songs sometimes get it right, and today that seems especially true: hold on, hold on to yourself, because this is going to hurt like hell. Indeed.