Leigh and I just spent five days away; it was glorious.
As you know, Leigh is on a journey; my mom and her girlfriend thought it was the right time for her to have a break from her “situation”. Which means, I also took a break because I’m supportive like that.
Leigh’s well-being improved daily, it seems taking a breather will do that to you. Apparently so will yelling at the ocean and asking it for advice. I’m not exaggerating. The ocean was really rough our first day there. Despite this, we went for a dip. As we stumbled out of the water, Leigh turned to me and said: “I just asked the ocean what the hell I’m supposed to do next.” I was curious what the Atlantic had in mind for our little Leigh-lee. “The message I received was to write a fucking book.”
Leigh consulted with the ocean for the remainder of our days there, something new each time. I, on the other hand, can only stay in the ocean for a limited amount of time, until my imagination gets away on me and I’m convinced a tiger shark is lurking. I had no time to make small talk while I was anxiously patrolling the water.
Almost as rare as being attacked by a shark off the coast of Florida, is seeing Leigh chill the fuck out. Thankfully, it was latter that occurred on our trip, rather than the former:While I was away giggling with the girls, Wizz was slowly morphing into me. It brings me great joy. Whenever I’m gone, he begins his solo-parenting jaunt very much as himself: super easy-going and chill. He doesn’t worry about the state of the house, orders too much take-out and does lots of fun stuff with the kids. By the fourth day, he’s stressing about dinner, how dirty the house is and just generally losing his shit. It amused me to get this text from him:
We are back to the real world, well kind of. Leigh declared she’s in a relationship with the ocean, and Wizz is still annoyed about that laundry. Today I am going to track down a ‘sounds of the ocean’ app for Leigh to install in her phone; she can’t do long-distance right now.