I have had my skin pricked by a thorn bush and it hurts. I have watched movies where a scene involves getting caught in barbed wire and I imagine that hurts quite a bit. I never thought of getting ensnared in emotional barbed wire but at times my grief for Bette is doing just that and I’d rather it be the physical barbed wire.

Upon waking I’m ensnared, sitting at the kitchen table I’m ensnared, when I’m in the shower and the bar of soap drops and there is no “are you okay in there” I’m ensnared, when I’m looking in the closet looking for something to wear for a ‘function’ and there is no “can I suggest something” I’m ensnared, when all food choices are mine alone to choose I’m ensnared, every time I get in that damn car and look over at the passenger seat I’m ensnared, all the ‘breaking news’ conversations-all the local,state,national,international and metaphysics “Oh my God, did Hawking really say ‘philosophy is dead'” gossip conversations-the numerous e-mails about upcoming museum exhibitions, theater productions,operas and concerts etc-ALL THAT WON’T BE TALKED ABOUT I’m ensnared, the day is done,I’m sitting in the living room on the love seat alone I’m ensnared and in bed pulling the covers over me without “Hey leave me some!” I’m ensnared.

I twist from a memory and collide with another. I dart forward and am thrown backward. The tearing brings me to a fetal position and I wait in stillness for my mind to go blank. It doesn’t happen and an especially treasured memory causes a sudden jump with arms wide open and the blood drips from every pore. There is no where to turn and avoid the shredded barbs of skin. All the piercing memories of Bette bleed me and I’m left with no alternative but to wait for coagulation and the flaking of the barbed wire rusted from eons of grief.

I walk away wounded and scarred. I tread lightly the landscape of memory.

But no matter what I do I will be ensnared again and though it breaks Bette’s heart it can’t be helped and I beg her forgiveness.

Love to you all