Try sleeping.

I try to figure out what makes the difference, a slight variance in piece of paper, one in triplicate, the other, not. Two aluminum casks in my black cordura, one my father carried with him, the other given to me by a mentor. Hubris plays its part, makes my hand reach for the one emblazoned with Irish, and I wonder if that is a failing on my part. But mostly it is random, and happenstance, and governed by circumstances that I do not think I even understand. And does it matter? But I wish that it did. Sometimes the easiest decision is the one that has already been made for you. He told her, my world is too black and white, and I, I thought, I think that mine is too much in the grey. But what can we do but play our cards and do the best we can to conjure up some kind of poker face.

And I was so distracted, today. When I closed my eyes I could still feel the warmth of my bed, and the two of us tangled up in sleep, and the tired feeling behind my eyes only fueled my happiness because it made me remember. The scent of salt and sweetness filled the cab and I could not help but smile, even as it snowed, even as the world proved itself to be raw and cutting and visceral. And that it could not touch me, that it did not matter as my phone beeped and there was a whole other world beyond the reach of frost and ice and incredulity. It is like a secret that I keep locked up and hidden on a top shelf so that the grittiness of my daily slogging does not find it. A touch, a whisper, his voice, what he says and how it can make me feel so vulnerable and that I am addicted to the dance. And still, I am smiling.

I am a fool, I know. But it is wonderful to let go.