A Baker's Dozen

I was quiet today. Quiet not because I had nothing to say, but because I had so many things to say without knowing where I should begin.

Trying to navigate actions, feelings, and expectations, I make an effort to explain how I see it. Yet eloquence and cogency elude my attempts at conveying how I feel. And I keep fucking up. I don't know where to begin, nor do I know that whenever I (finally) stop talking I will be fully understood.

However, I do find solace in this closeness. And this afternoon, I figured it out. I realized, that everything - in all its elusiveness - really does boil down to the same explanation to which we've both turned for comfort since the beginning.

"This guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, 'Doc, uh, my brother's crazy. He thinks he's a chicken.' And the doctor says, 'Well, why don't you turn him in?' And the guy says, 'I would, but I need the eggs.' Well, I guess that's pretty much how I feel about relationships. You know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd, but, I guess we keep goin' through it because most of us need the eggs."

Despite ups, downs, outs, backs, flatlines, and tornadoes. I crack and you crack and yet we still find a way to put things back together. Yes, it's totally irrational and crazy and absurd. But it's also reassuring and comfortable and frankly, wonderful.

More than just a good egg... a baker's dozen.