I yell, and yell, and yell. Soon I can’t yell anymore. I am yelling at you. I perceive a threat from you, and I want to protect myself. So I yell. I want to step back, take a breath, and deliver a measured response. I don’t. I yell.

My head is pounding, my face is ruddy. There are no words coming from my mouth, and still I yell. The sound dying in my throat. I may be right; its your fault. You may be right; its mine. Doe’s it really matter ? It sure seems to, otherwise I wouldn’t be yelling. The situation that we are in has touched something that the little boy is holding onto, and won’t let go of, yet.

I stand here, spent, all my energy gone, just residual anger, and guilt.Why do I feel disrespected ? Don’t you love me ? I know that you do. That’s what makes this harder. We are both islands floating in this ocean. Sometimes the wind blows us into each other, and its magnificent. We hold on tight. Sometimes that wind, we call life, blows us away from each other. Those are the times that I struggle. I am used to that, I am used to allowing people to sail out of my life.

Today I pull out my paddle and start rowing, back to you. There is  writing on the paddle.    ” The twelve steps ” on one side, and on the other ” Love ”