0008 | Monday means Monday again

I have a feeling Ben is awake, but in case he is getting even the tiniest bit of rest, I'm writing here instead of texting him. It's not quite 5:00am. I'm at the airport on my way to Dallas and my one week old job at which I am pretty sure I will suck for at least another week or two. Ben is in Salt Lake City with his brother. His brother's little girl was struck and killed by a car on Saturday night, and if I keep typing, I will start crying in the airport. I can't seem to stop feeling the family's heartache.

Last night I talked to Lindsey on the phone. About senseless death, the new job, Ben being away, everything frightening me. It is astounding to me how the overwhelm of life can be so easily mitigated by the simple act of speaking your fears aloud. All of a sudden, when I heard my troubles as words, they seemed smaller and more manageable. Lindsey reminded me that everything is temporary. Very Stoic of her. Or zen. And even the temporal act of speaking to another human being is a way of adding the dimension of time to--and thus limiting the power of--whatever vexes me. 

Also, I had a drink of gin, which turned out to be a soothing tonic for the nerves. Only a few days to get through until I see Ben and the world has a chance at making sense. It's 5:15am. A good night's sleep would go a long way toward sanity.