Living On A Prayer

Dear John,

 

About an hour ago the cat discovered the smoke detector. Now he's sitting in the hall looking up at it and squeaking. It hasn't gone off or anything, he must have looked up and seen it. It's adorable, but the squeaking could be annoying if it goes on after I turn the light out.

 

I tortured then both this afternoon - I vacuumed. Jethro gets frustrated because I won't let him attack and kill the vacuum cleaner, and Hunter runs and hides in terror. Then I tortured myself and worked on finances. I need to call NIPSCO in the morning - this month's bill is twice what last month's was, and I didn't use heat or air conditioning all month. Finally we all got to relax a bit, dog in my lap and cat in the window. It's going down to 41 tonight, so all mammals will cuddle together for sleeping.

 

I'm missing you today. I'm not violently sad, not wailing. There's just a gentle sadness tugging at me tonight. This is one of those days that I feel the load of having all the responsibility, of not being able to share jobs with you anymore. I still feel you so close to me, but tonight I'd give up everything in this world to be able to touch you. And sometimes I still miss having that one person who loves me more than anything in the world. The animals love me that way, and I'm so grateful for them. I rescued them, and they rescued me right back. But sometimes I'd love to have a human that loves me. I'd love to have you. You're all I really want, all that matters. I guess I get weary with waiting.

 

I still don't look at the future. I've learned that we really know nothing about it anyway - planning your future isn't much different from fantasizing. My future may end tonight, which would, of course, be lovely. Before you died I asked - begged and pleaded, really - you to try your best to get me brought home soon. It's been over thirteen months now and I must say that I don't consider that "soon." But you're living outside of time now and may forget that. Please do pray for me that I either come soon, or receive grace for the journey. I know it's worth the wait. We will survive apart, we will rejoice in reunion. I'm still laboring for my rest, and having times of weariness. We'll make it, I swear!

 

Your impatient wife,

Joan.