to not pull away from Bu when we are stressed and snappy and fighting? When he pulls me in toward him (metaphorically, via IM) it feels like slipping into a hot bath after having been out in the cold. When will I remember from one tiff to the next that talking through it made it livable, that the turning tail and running away made it worse?
He urged me to leave work at lunch to go to eat and go to the forest (emotionally charged state park where mom’s wake was held- six years ago next Friday – and where he proposed and where there are a lifetime of happy memories.) So I begged off work and he’ll be here to fetch me in a minute and then I can dissolve into his arms in a better variety of tears than the ones responsible for my splotchy face this morning.