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  • I have had an odd day today.
    A Friday, spent at home with various children of mine and others, of differing ages and demands and tempers and needs.

    Between the games, the laughter, the allegiances and the noise, I have pottered around my home. Soothing songs, amplified through the house, particularly in my kitchen.
    After the short order cooked breakfast for little people, I have had intermittent blocks of time alone, alone with my music and my thoughts.

    To not be at work feels like playing indulgent truant.
    To have the time to allow my thoughts to first focus and then in turn, meander, without the usual constraints of clock and routine has been unaccustomed, and... quite quite lovely.

    I have chopped, shredded, sautéed and simmered.
    I have kneaded, rested and proved, and kneaded again.
    I have sifted and creamed.

    I think I have a new job. It's so close I can feel it. I want it. It is a perfect role for me, my career, for my community.
    It's distracting, in a good way - the roller coaster ride of recruitment, references, medicals, phych tests and security checks.

    My children's school reports have come in. They are amazingly creative, savvy and smart kids, and I could not be more proud - of their academic achievements; but more than that - of their well rounded characters, their community spirit, their sportsmanship and the balance they all manage execute between maturity and precociousness.

    The garbage truck passes.
    The spaghetti sauce is ready.
    The cookies are cooling.
    The phone does not ring.
    The kids laugh, and slam and squabble.
    The music plays.

    Thoughts of The Consultant are right there, at the surface, mingling in silence with the rhythm of domesticity.
    I alternate. Between nostalgic recollection, isolating sweet moments of tender bliss. Happy hazy mental snapshots that make my shoulders relax and desire seep into my veins and peace fill my heart. And possibly I allow a secret minuscule smile to my mouth.
    And then, then the other thoughts, where the tiny smile is replaced with a tightening of my brow and my heart aches and feels fragile and brittle and cracked. My shoulders hunch and tense, the muscles across the back of my neck are scrunched and tangled. And the mental snapshot is more like a mono scene, with an audio of recriminations, blame and disbelief. Black and white and anger.

    I want to talk to him so badly. I need to explain to him. I cannot not explain to him. This new job, and his perception of how it may possibly impact him and his world - in all conscience I cannot just cease contact with him and pretend it doesn't matter. The risk is too great - and the inevitable fury and eventual confrontation are simply too much for me to delay.

    But I delay nevertheless.

    It's inevitable.
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