Pieces of my own net

LAST night I was sick; suddenly, in the middle of the night, the way it so often happens.   I fled out to the living room, where I could hop off to the kids' bathroom, far away from our room, if I needed to.  I left my confused and sympathetic spouse only half awake but aware.  I have been weak in front of him.   He knows all my secrets, even the embarrassing IBS that grabs me unexpectedly after a random meal.  BUT there are some things that I can't bear to have him witness to, even at a distance. I crawl off to be sick like an animal, craving solitude.

I fell asleep on the couch after a harrowing hour or so, propped up on pillows with an afghan and "Under The Dome", the new King book, and the weenie dog tucked beside me.  I don't know how long I slept there, but I woke to his hand on my shoulder.  "Come to bed, honey."  He helped me up and found my glasses as I fished around for them, half asleep, sliding an arm around me as we shuffled back to bed.  "I was worried about you."  We slid back into the warm soft flannel sheets and I felt him wrap around me as I curled up there, safe.  There is something about the sound of his breathing that makes the world spin correctly on its axis.  I fell asleep thinking how thankful I was for him. 

Last week I was online with the writers' group when during a conversation about one of our members who has just gotten published, we began to discuss art.  The newly minted author had posted a shot of her new cover art for the novel, which is a fantasy/sci fi piece.  The cover art was okay, but nothing I felt like I wanted to write home to mom about.  She was pleased with it, however, and was looking ahead to the next novel.  One of the members posted a page with her artwork, and so I did the same. 

All of a sudden there was interest.  "You do beautiful work!"  "Do you ever do commissions?"  "Would you think about doing.....cover art?"  And finally, "How much would you charge to do one for me?"

After answering "Thanks!  On occasion.  Possibly." and "Nothing (just credit on the jacket would be fine, thanks!)", I found myself with two new jobs.  I also took a couple of copies of members' manuscripts to proof, in exchange for promises of critiques on my own.  I am finding that my own net is expanding.  After all, if you can trust someone with your 'baby', you know you have a friend, right?

And finally, after a long day of running errands and paying bills and making budgets, B and I were standing in the garage winding down.  He looked at me thoughtfully.  "What would you think of going up to the bank and opening a joint checking account?" 

It's a small step, but a major one in the realm of trust.  We have both been financially destroyed before.  And while it will be a while until we can actually get married, the simple fact of that extension of his trust is huge, and implicit.  He's bought a house with me.  We are slowly paying down the debt he got stuck with from his previous life.  And now, this. 

This is the rope I am weaving together, making a rope ladder that will carry me across the chasms of the future.  They are deep, say the people who came before me.  Weave it well.  I heft the coils in my hand, feeling their solidity, their reassurance.  Someday I have to trust my life to these lines.  I hope to connect them wisely and strongly, to people who are willing to hang on when I might not be able to.  But while it's hard for one single person to hold up someone's weight, it's easy for ten.  Or twenty.  Or fifty, until my weight is just a petal, borne on a multitude of single fingers, passing me across the chasm so that I can get to the other side and take up MY place in the line.