Another Dawn

I am frequently spooked by the too many similarities between YS and Hubs. It plays holy hell on my Incest Survivor Syndrome. It is a simple fact that YS looks more like that cute neighbor I married in 1980 than my husband currently does. GS (3) needed allot of convincing that it was Gampy who was kissing Gammy in the pictures of our wedding ceremony. Well. . . He didn't recognize Gammy, either. He thought Daddy was *cheating* on Mommy. My therapy tools have been effective in handling the incestuous spook events so far, but it still feels like an injustice that it should even be a factor.

Hubs was groaning his martyr duty as he drove off for the final shuffle out of his father's house yesterday. His back is one of his vulnerable spots and recent weeks have been brutal. He has been impressive in saluting the nag flags, so the old injuries are not crippling him, but it has been hard, all the same. He did not want to give up his back resting sprawl on the sun-drenched quilt in the yard for the 500 miles of driving, punctuated by moving furniture. YS was still in transit between his visit with his wife in the hospital 190 miles to the south of my current location when hubs drove off, leaving me alone with the grandkids. We were not alone for very long. YS drove up with a pickup crew-cab full of dirty laundry an hour or so later. I had been grumbling at him about the lack of clothing for his children and he thought finished laundry might be a nice welcome home from the hospital present for his wife. Lovely thought, but the laundry room here at the job site is smaller than my father-in-law's bedroom closet. It was hard to get to either the washing machine or dryer after YS finished unloading the crew cab. Sigh. . .

Is it possible to have a restfully restless night? Father and children seem to have done just that. I sit now in the small, detached garage which seems to be coming to be known as, "The Grow House." For now, it is set up for sleeping accomodations, but I have dreams of moving my plant shelves and lights in here. At the moment, I believe it is the soundest structure on the property. GS is the one who dubbed it, "The Grow House." I am not exactly sure how that one came about, but the grown-ups took to the name without question. Works for me.

The emotions running between YS and his children were still quite intense when I left them on the watching cartoons in the pre-dawn light on the couch in the studio, but my Youngest Son (32) was looking less psycho-hubs than he has since he quit his last job just days before his grandfather died at the end of September. Unemployment, suicidal wife, etc., etc., are enough to put creases in any face.

Dunno what this day will hold, but there is a gorgeous view of sunrise from this hill top. Think I'll go watch it. GS looks like he is on the verge of appreciating it almost as much as he appreciates Leggo Ninjas.