Day Thirty-One

Dear Lunch Buddy,

Once when I was very young I scratched the back of my hand on a zipper and got a lengthy scab from my wrist to my knuckle. It all healed quickly except for a spot on my wrist, that took a very long time to heal. It seems that a bit of lint had gotten down inside the initial cut. In an effort to protect me from the lint, my body formed a protective coat around the lint. It itched terribly, and the scab would not go away.

I think that is what’s happening to my heart. There is so much hurt and anger and sorrow in it, that my body is trying to protect me from its poison. In doing so, it has created a thick membrane around my heart, so that I feel little other than the minor irritation that is remembering us but not crying.

My dear friend Portlandgirl e-mailed me yesterday to tell me what’s going on with her and her husband. He’s made her many promises and they’re trying to work things out and I’m happy for them, truly. But she reminded me of something, and that is that I have survived much worse than this, and I will survive this, as well. I will survive it and I will be stronger for it, and if I have to get angry to get through it, I will use that anger for strength. "That which does not kill us makes us stronger."

I miss you like I’d miss my eyes.