Well, after last Friday I never quite knew where this week was heading. The weekend was hard for us both. We still had to take in the Embassy news and adjust to the fact that we had to wait longer to be together… get through thanksgiving (last year being my first and such a wonderful occasion,this. Well, I’m still here, I suppose. Jesse, too. So that’s something to give thanks for.) But I turned to my friends for comfort like you do, and some were, in all fairness, sweet. Others had decided that, as we lost this round, maybe we should just give in and go our separate ways. (This cut me to the core as they hadn’t learnt by now just how I love, how much I love Jesse and how I could no sooner learn to fly or quit eating than walk away from my man.) I sat Sunday afternoon on a clear, crisp, sunny day outside a local church. Dazed by recent events, raw with hurt and confused by why people thought walking away would be so easy. Yes, I get that we met via Facebook… I get most don’t take these relationships seriously. It’s like some view it as a kind of petty infatuation that I’m going to have fun with and grow out of. We both have put ourselves through hell to get here… weathered life changing things, so, no, we are not going to give up… no, we can’t just walk away now.

I sat there a while regrouping, regaining lost energy. And then not only did anger kick in, but a renewed energy. I knew what I wanted. Whether it was the caffeine in the two large Americano coffees I had, anger or sheer bloody stubbornness… I don’t know and really do not care, but that night I spoke to Jesse and pathways cleared. I was sure of what I wanted, certain that nothing would get in my way now. Jesse is my pathway to happiness and now my back’s against that proverbial wall. I won’t give up on him or us. I sat with the sun breaking through the treetops, dappling it’s wintry rays on my face… closed my eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath. There was peace there a while. I could hear black birds singing, cars, people going about their day, Jesse pounding out drafted emails to clients. But despite the noise, a hush came over my stressed mind and I listened to me a while… to what my heart said I wanted.

This has been an odd week for me filled with cathartic rushes and dull rainy miserable winter days. But each day, no matter how low my mood sank, I got up and made my way down to the March Hare Cafe, sat in the warm hub bub of life listening to others in their normality, making Christmas plans, whose house they were eating at, hopes that aunt Ethel would cook the turkey properly. Someone’s sister would clean the house. Uncle whatsaface wouldn’t get drunk and show the family up to the in-laws (or is that outlaws? I can never be sure). But as I sipped my now new favourite drink, a large Americano with skinny almond and vanilla flavoured whatever it is, I looked about myself and thought ‘how wonderful it would be to be boring again’. Well, not boring, but normal, I guess… to go about life without a care, without wondering what the hell was going to hit you next. Decorations hang from light fittings, the tree sits in the corner twinkling away with every breeze from the ever opening door, and for the first year it means nothing. After last year’s sweetness spent with Jesse, our first tree, Cumzi the dog watching our companionable industrious goings-ons, laying in his arms, (Jesse’s not Cumzi’s)… it was all so perfect.

When I come back from the cafe, it’s straight back up here to my room. I perch very very delicately on my bed with a muttered hope and a prayer that it won’t make that dreaded sound; a cross between a loud bang and boinnnnng. This, ladies and gents, is, in itself, an art form. I’ve yet to manage this. I’ve never managed this. Each time I try and just think ‘Yeahhhh !!!! I’ve done it!’ the loud bang occurs. I sink into the slowly disappearing mattress that falls through the loosened bed slats. Jesse is left on my bedside table in phoneland, the phone either sliding down the side between the table and bed, dangling in mid air or just wondering where the hell I’ve gone as I sink further into oblivion. I try to pull myself out while Jesse is, by now, in fits of laughter. All he can see is flaying arms and legs in the air and the air blue with curse words. I do eventually right myself, like some upturned turtle, pulling myself out of my pit, then sitting about trying to repair the bed which requires much shuffling of wooden slats and shifting a heavy mattress. My back’s sore and I’m bruised but I’m getting quite good at gently perching my mattress over said slats without them moving again. This, I come to the conclusion, is solely to lull me into a false sense of security as the minute I sit on this bloody bed it boings, and I fall through again. Talking of which I had better set to and put it back together. It just went as I sat to writing this.

But despite the bed, people’s disparaging comments, the phone… oh, don’t get us started on how many times these phones have disconnected – those blooming pings and bloop bloop bloop before the calls dropped, sounds that fill me full of panic. It drives us both insane. Top that off with Jesse going in shops, putting me down in phoneland on the counters, paying, then walking out without me or said phone… me screaming out futily at his back as he walks away “Jesse! The phoneeeeeee!!!!!!” He, of course, can’t hear me without his earbuds. Oh yes, life is anything but dull in this wacky world of mine and my love’s. Whatever you’re doing folks, enjoy one another and most of all take care. xx

Yesterday was a huge day for myself and my man, Jess. It started some weeks ago, in a failed attempt to get me an interview at the American Embassy in London. (Long story, but I will give a brief history.) That attempt cost us both dearly; Jess monetary wise, me physically and mentally. See, I live in a small town in Lincolnshire, which is hours from London. It requires my poor son-in-law to drive for hours to get me from Essex where Jess had booked me into a hotel for the night with my daughter for company. He won’t have me be alone. He knows how my mind gets overwhelmed with thoughts. I start to panic and drive myself into an exhaustive state. (If you know someone with a mental illness, you will quite readily understand this. Jess knows it all too well now, so he arranges everything to the smallest detail. Nothing is left to chance (I love him greatly for this.) From Essex, my son-in-law and I took trains and undergrounds into the centre of London. This takes much walking and many flights of stairs. I have been sheltered in my room for a year now as you know from my story. I don’t go far to get exercise since Detroit, plus, since all this occurred, it’s flared up my HMS (hyper mobility syndrome) greatly.

I’m been in a lot of pain of over the last few months (doesn’t help I have a bad penchant for bread at the moment and I’m not supposed to eat wheat) but, my goodness, is bread good!… and such a comfort. Oh goodness, here I go wandering again. LOL Anyway, pain not withstanding, I’m also Agoraphobic, find peopling a mixture of fascinating and a trial. So, myself and Gary go through it all: trains, panic, people, me having a minor meltdown every other minute… I also made the mistake of buying new trainers (gym shoes). My feet were ripped to ribbons. My beloved is on the end of the phone going through all this with me, right there as strong and loving as always. I can’t imagine how this feels to watch and stand helplessly by, but he knows me well and a warm calm voice whispers often ‘I love you’.

These words are my balm, so necessary. It’s like he’s willing me on, taking each aching breath with me. I forget at times how hard this must be for him. (Sorry honey!) But when myself and my lovely son-in-law got there we were told we had the wrong papers for the interview. This bought my world crashing down around me at the time. I tried keeping a positive attitude and sound in my voice for both Jess and my fellow traveler, Gary. Inside my world’s crumbling. My heart sends a sudden pain through my chest. (Not sure if this is my angina or misery but right then I didn’t give a damn.) I didn’t care what happened to me, I just knew I wanted Jess more then than ever, those arms pulling me into his embrace, his voice healing my aches, my pain. It’s the most difficult thing I’ve had to do; be positive outside while my heart is crying out its hurt. Again while I sit on that train going home, slowly falling apart, a voice in my ear says ‘I love you, honey’. That’s all I needed right then. It’s all I ever need, more than food, more than anything, more than this next breath. He’s all there is.

Anyway, after that futile attempt, Jess was, unbeknownst to me, plotting with my Chook (my daughter Becky) and her hubby our next attack. This time he honed his plan, leaving nothing to chance. He arranged with Gary to drive up here from Essex again after work, stay in a hotel till 4am and meet me here, where a taxi from a local cab firm was to meet us both outside and drive us all the way from here to London. This at great expense to himself. Now take into account I know none of this (well, I didn’t until one of the cab drivers dropped Jess in it on a trip he also booked for me to go to a doctor appointment. LOL) I knew some of the plan after this, but not all. Poor Jess did go through it after I learned this. See, I won’t take anything off Jess, (His heart being his most valuable gift and I claim that unashamedly) but anything else, as his favourite saying goes, I will rip him a new butt for. (He uses other words but I’m being polite.) Jess and my daughter plotted this for weeks. I get told ‘it’s none of your business’ when I ask. (OK LOL I do give my guy such a hard time folks.) Anyway, the big day arrives. Friday morning is D day. Thursday night I didn’t sleep at all. I’m antsy, just can’t settle, so much relies on this, on me and my answers. I’m terrified. Will I mess this up? Will my answers ruin this? Will my fear of authority figures make me answer wrongly? Poor Jess had a blithering wreck the hours before. (Throughout that evening he tried his hardest to support me, folks. This is near-on impossible. When I come apart, gorilla glue wouldn’t keep me together.)

I watch the hours speed round to the time… the minutes, seconds… I hate each passing hour. We try to watch something on Netflix together. (We love this normally… brings us back to times sat on the sofa cuddling, watching TV.) This night I couldn’t concentrate. My whole body’s jumping out of its skin. My heart’s missing beats. For two weeks I’ve had the most terrible chest pain now. I clock watch constantly, almost a crazy fascination, like a bunny caught in the headlights. Then it is the time to get ready. I’m shaking. I can’t breath. Jess is still doing his best to hold me together. I cling to my phone where my love watches me intently, listening to the fear in my voice, watching me slowly fall into a desperate state of anxiety. I manage to wash, change, do my makeup. Goodness knows how! It was arranged for the cab firm to call me letting me know they’re out there for pick up. I change video chat onto my tablet from my phone. There’s no way I’m turning off chat when I need Jess the most. (Although at one point that evening I had suggested this when I was going through a moment of sheer panic. Jess is used to this and says a flat ‘Noooooo!’ ) Every little noise is making me jump out of my skin by now.

I’m snapping at poor Jess, I’m in such a state of nervousness and exhaustion. Gary comes to the flat just after 4am. as arranged. I did feel sorry for him. He must have been equally as tired, and there he is, having hours of dealing with his, by now, blubbering basket case of a mother-in-law. I swear, not only was I shaking head to toe, I was speaking Gaelic, Arabic, German, French gibberish… anything but making sense. It’s dark outside and I have to walk down a pitch black alleyway to unlock a gate to let him in. the path’s uneven and I pick my way nervously across, praying I won’t go flat on my face. Gary’s face is most welcome. It’s re-enforcement for, by now, an exhausted Jess. I swear, keeping me together takes super glue, the Navy, Air force and an entire Rugby team, but my hero, Jess, does this single-handed most days, bless his heart. When we get back upstairs we attempt to pass the time like the supposed civilised Brits we ain’t. LOL We make murmurs about the dreadful weather, the localised flooding, road closures, drive up here, anything but the ordeal ahead. I’m trying my best to look composed. I’m at least semi sane while inside I’m not so sure I’m even human anymore. Jess is fretting about the cab turning up in time. I’m just this mix of wanting to get it done and hoping a pestilence of frogs, geese, hippos falls and we can’t go. The phone screaming out (well, really just ringing) pierces the silence that’s fallen on the nervously anticipating room. I jump on it and answer. Not sure now what I said but that’s when I hear the lovely warm voice of Dave our driver to be from Tealby taxis. I instantly feel a little better. He has that lovely friendly Yorkshire accent. He’s chatty and I know he’s not going to be offended by my nervous chatter. (This is something I can’t halt.) I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be .

We have a lovely big minibus just for us. We introduce ourselves as we board our carriage in the cold dark early November morning. We instantly fall into a companionable chatter. I love this and start to feel better. Dave has a litany of stories and anecdotes that help keep me away from my own thoughts. I find myself taking to him and calming. We talk once again about the floods and how bad the roads are, fish and chips, childhoods, take-aways, our childhoods. I hear Jess’s soft breath in my ear telling me he’s fallen into an exhaustive sleep. (I tell you, when I’m in this anxious mess I would wear out the energizer bunny!) This lulls my own breathing. I feel okay as we drive away the miles, just wanting to get this over with now. The drive’s long and the nearer we get the more traffic builds. I’m worried we aren’t going to make it on time as you have to be there dead on your appointment. But our driver is confident and Jess has, as always, allowed for all eventualities. He’s planned this with every detail in place. He’s made sure of my every comfort, no expense spared. I feel bad about this but when the upset passes I realize just how fortunate in my choice of a mate I’ve been and how loved I am. This hits me square in the chest, the heart. How I love my man.

After one near miss by some idiot lorry driver and the traffic hold up we arrive in London at 9:30am. My appointment is ten. We are greeted by the sight of the armed guards outside the Embassy. I’m tempted to joke about the size of their weapons but their straight-faced appearance told me ‘that was not a good idea, Treez.’ LOL We queue with our fellow interviewees, all chatter nervously, most look at my bare arms in disbelief. (When I’m nervous I go two ways: either freezing cold or the sweat drips off me.) My body chooses the latter. When we have all had our documents checked, we are let in to go through the process of bag checking and the x-ray machine, arms in the air, and the thing beeps out its approval. I’m not dejected or is that rejected? Whatever… I pass. I’m okay. This is done. (By the way, I have to do this alone as you can’t take anyone in with you.) This, of course, adds to my state of apprehension, but by now I’m putting on my brave face and trying to joke with those in the lines. None were ready for my jocularity that time of the morning. (But this is my way of coping. This is the class joker that I am, but inside I’m a mess… I’m slowly going to pieces. My little world is ready to implode in on me.) I’m not brave, I’m alone doing this thing that decides mine and Jesse’s dream, our future. Don’t mind telling you I’m so bloody scared. It goes beyond scared, beyond terrified. Even when I got the news alone I had cancer doesn’t begin to match this. I can’t describe this terror that strikes at my heart., Jesse is there. His voice breaks through the dark, cold place I’m at. It reaches me like nothing can. There’s those words “you know I love you”. And I do. I know he’s going through this with me. He’s on the sidelines willing me on.

We stand in our lines, people from all around the world, joined in one common thing (that Holy Grail)… a visa, a golden ticket to our dreams. And my dream is to wake as soon as possible in my love’s arms, to have one of those hugs only he can do, to feel completed. I need Jess. We wait half hour in our queue nervously, until, at last, we are herded through. We are given a number. Mine: V119… a number I can’t forget. I’m told by a lady as she checks my papers (AGAIN!!!!!!) ‘Go left and left again’. We flock in our herd (safety in numbers) into the small box of an elevator. (Another of my phobias… one I struggle sorely with.) We reach first floor, our numbers checked and we are told where to go, quite literally. LOL I’m famous for having no sense of direction, so, of course, I get lost straight away. My feet hurt, my back hurts, I need the bathroom as I hadn’t been in eight hours, my knees swollen and all I want to do is sit down. I’ve been stood by now for an hour. But I go back to the lady at the desk. Again she explains to go round the corner. okaaaaay… you sure you don’t mean ’round the bend where I’m fast heading? I get to where I’m directed, finally see only four chairs and fifteen or so people. By now everything’s hurting. I’m overly tired, emotional and wanting to ugly cry, but for the sake of my fellow waiting folks I resist this. I lean against a pole and listen to the nervous chatter, stories of past horrors coming to the Embassy. I listen on in that scared, horrified way that we can’t avoid. I finally get seen in a type of triage. I nervously answer the question, about three in all. He takes the photos I had hated having done back in October. We joke about it. He’s a nice, friendly guy. I feel lulled into a false sense of security. And it’s not till I’ve walked away I realize he kept my passport and papers. Others have theirs, why don’t I have mine? So back I go to reception and ask about this to a very overworked guy being bombarded with questions. He reassures me that that can happen and to sit down and wait for my number to come up on the TV screen of which there’s several. Every second this continual ‘bing’ rings in the air. (Drove me to distraction. Not sure how the staff cope.) But as I sat I became more and more filled with trepidation, my nerves by now tattered. I hurt. I was scared. I wanted Jess there to hold my hand… his my strength, my heartbeat. He was there in phone land but I needed his warmth, his presence to sooth my ache. An hour passed slowly. Jess did all he could to keep me calm, but nothing could, not even my love’s voice. I wanted to break down, but I couldn’t. I had to hold it together that while longer.

Eventually my number appeared. My wait over. I won’t bore you any more, but in four simple quick cold questions, someone coldly sealed our fate. I was ready to fall there in a girly faint, I was so tired. I hadn’t been able to eat in hours, my body exhausted, the blow delivered in an inhumane, cold way in a standing position… no chair to catch me, not even a sorry you’ve not been successful, just “No! Read this piece of paper. It explains all”. Frankly, it does not, but I looked into the cold steeliness of the face in front of me thinking ‘you’re a woman, a fellow sister in life. Surely you can see you’ve just stopped my heart with those four quick questions’. No interview. In those four sentences my life was left in ruins . This blow I stood and took alone, like all important things that have rocked my world, as you have to turn off phones. I didn’t even have Jess to cushion the blow, the pain, this evil blackness that engulfed me, robbing my body of breath. I walked away slowly. My whole life I’ve been rejected because of one thing or another and here I was, again, in the rubbish heap of life, again facing rejection and again alone in a world. I suddenly felt freezing cold, my fleecy jacket didn’t protect the icy cold from eating into my soul. I sat on a bench alone, at that moment more alone than I had ever felt in my life, in a city huge and full of faces I didn’t know, my world coloured in a darkness, a blackness I couldn’t understand. Hadn’t I been told how kind people were, basically? Hadn’t I been lead to believe there’s good in all? So why this overwhelming feeling that no one wanted me? I was that broken item to be disregarded. I was held in a lifetime of not being good enough. I was so so scared that I would now lose the man I had waited a lifetime to find, hearing that soft calm voice, not even seeing him on the phone anymore. I won’t go into what crossed my mind for that fleeting of moments, but the pain was far too great to bear, and I had to travel miles in a cab with two people just hours ago I shared a journey with. I wanted out of this pain. I was desperate for a fleeting moment I am not ashamed to say. But I knew Jess would be waiting to hear the decision. He would be as nervous as myself. He would be there sat in his familiar office, the office I know so well. I needed to hear that voice. I needed him to keep me here, to anchor me to this earth that had threatened to cut me loose, but I was also fearing the worst… fearing this was one step to far for the man of my dreams, my life, the reason I do the mammoth things I do. I have no words to describe how I feel for Jess, but he’s the one person that can bring me back from the brink. He’s my warmth in this cold world, his arms my home, his love my nourishment. So I called to deliver my news. He fell silent, but I felt his sadness, his anger, hurt. I felt like I always did anytime anything affected his mood… like it’s my own feelings. We talked it over stiltedly, then he let Gary know where I was via text. I didn’t see Gary’s friendly smile or actually hear a word he said, but somehow we got into the cab and made the very very long drive home. I wanted to cry. I wanted to be in my cold, dark room suddenly. I wanted to just curl up and not wake again. But most of all I wanted Jess, and now… when would I ever see him? I was torn between the impossible and walking away from the man who filled my world with beauty… with a reason to be.

Now I wanted to be alone with Jess even just in phone land. I needed to see that warm smile, to be reassured, loved like only he knows how. For a time I was ready to give up. For a moment I felt selfish for wanting him to remain an ‘us’, a couple, my mate in life, my heart, but that was just that a second… a reactionary thought. I could not be without this man, my man, no sooner than I could halt the world from spinning. I may be selfish in my need of him, my greed of wanting him, but do you know what? This has only reaffirmed my resolve. I will hold my man one day. I will kiss that mouth that rocks my world. I will hear his heart beat under my ear as I sleep. I will love him like he’s never known because the thought of not is just too much for this woman to think about. I love the way you love me, Jesse Cole, and I love how you try to shield me even miles away. True to you, my love. True to no other. xx

It’s a simple title for what I’ve observed of late has given me a simple lesson. Every few days, as most know, I go sit down t my local cafe. It’s my little oasis of calm and gives time to escape my room, get warm and drink really good coffee. (Really is good coffee.) But, this aside, it brings me that perfect opportunity to do my other hobby (people watch). Since childhood I’ve always sat and took in my fellow passengers of life going about their daily lives.

This I didn’t do quite as seriously as I do now. Even up to a year ago I’d sit quietly watching people come and go. I enjoyed their interactions but mostly I would have the greatest time making up stories in my head about how I thought their lives went. This could have hilarious outcomes. I would see the most ordinary of couples and have them down as secretly living this parallel lifestyle. (Russian spies, undercover police, explorers, missionary workers or 70 year old phone sex workers.) LOL. Yes, you never knew, folks, why I’m sat smiling to myself while I’m sipping my large Americano.

But of late I have stopped this. Quietened the constant mind chatter, relaxed and really observed. I sit in my corner mainly alone, although of late I have had company; one, a therapy dog who took to getting up and coming over and laying at my side, the other, the sweetest little girl I’ve met in a long time who came over and showed me the game she was playing. I’m not sure how it worked but, hey, she was impressive, knocking out levels like a pro. I sat scratching my head and felt suddenly old. LOL. I get a lot from these brief moments of interaction with fellow customers. I’m told by my therapist and Jesse it’s good for me. I trust ’em. LOL. (sighs) I’m doing it again (digressing), but, yes, mostly I sit alone and today there wasn’t that many people there. But the ones that were, well, it saddened me. See, they sit and eat, drink, but never interact. Now I know you’re thinking to yourself ‘well, that’s what they’re there for! Maybe they don’t like each other, LOL, or just not want to talk… sit quietly‘.

But They are on their phones and just not talking. These are families, couples, friends, loved ones. If only they knew how I long to change places with them… what I wouldn’t give to be sat there with Jesse. Yes, he’s there in my phone and we chat, but if he was with me I would hold his hand and look in his eyes, chat like our days in Denny’s. I saw this while there, too… whole families at times sat texting or looking at something unmissable on their cell phone, not once looking at each other. Today there was a grandmother desperately trying to talk to her family. Instead she sat talking to herself. It reminded me of times with my mum and how very much I love and miss her despite things between us. There was also a mum and dad with kids, both on phones while the kids looked bored and restless, only taking their noses out of phoneland long enough to tell the kids to behave. Again the thought came: my kids are all grown up now. Oh what I wouldn’t give to have them that age, be going for picnics or out for the treat of tea and cake.

It’s here that we never realise just how quickly time passes us… how we take for granted time spent with our friends or families. Time for each other is our most precious of gifts. Giving of yourself to really not just listen but hear. I’m sure I’ve done this too at times. I’m sure I’ve only half cocked an ear or just murmured a response, but it is when I sit back and really see how we treat our oh so little time we have for ourselves and each other that I find we waste so many opportunities… to be together, to give that most wonderful gift: us and our time. xx

In an hours time, one year ago to the very day I was sitting aboard an aeroplane, my first ever flight, to see the man of my dreams for the very first time. I was more scared of the fact I was seeing Jess than the flight, which, if I’m truthful, had terrified me just weeks before. I could barely walk down the road alone and here I am, sat with my fellow passengers, crossing the sea, my thoughts never strayed from Jess not for one moment. Flight attendants busily saw to everyone, their confident cheerful smiles didn’t reach me. I was sat thinking of that night. Oh, I spoke to the crew politely and the couple excited about seeing their family… we shared stories and a mint or two. (My ears were tormenting the life out of me, so very painful with the pressure.)

Even the films playing on the tiny screens on the back of my neighbours seat didn’t distract my thoughts. I wondered ‘would he run screaming from the airport when he saw me?’ I had been, by now, traveling hours. I was tired but still those damn butterflies in my stomach did dogfights and aerobatics. I felt excited, sick… no, excited AND sick. In my head played scenes of how that first kiss would be, how his arms would feel about me. For goodness sakes, I was about to sleep with the man I had loved for months now and whose hand I hadn’t even touched.

That night turned out to be perfect. Jess and I had spoke at length of my nervousness around men. He was perfect, so gentle, so loving, and I could not have asked for anything more. As we lay in each other’s arms, time halted. Our hearts, bodies and souls spoke to wach other. We shut out a world that was harsh and not part of us. This man took me with him on a journey I can never forget. We became husband and wife in all but name. I was his forever that night, waves of love caressed skin that has never known a kind touch in its life. Soft words enveloped my once numb heart and it beat once more at the same pace as my love’s. They played love’s tune and we spoke the words, danced the dance only lovers know. It was a night such that if I live another thousand years I will never forget. It was one of many this beautiful man gifted from his heart to me.

Now a year on I lay in a cold, darkened room. He’s there as always in phonelandia, but I can’t hold him… can’t feel those lips caress mine. I can’t run my hand through his hair and he’s not here to wipe the endless silent tears I can’t control. They fall no matter how much I swipe them away. I can’t let this gentle soul see. I just want to lay and sob. I want to go out into the darkness and scream up into the sky. Why why why!!! What have I done to be punished so? Wasn’t 35 years enough punishment? Cancer… HMS… endless illnesses… I never questioned you, Lord, when you took my freedom for years. Good friends I never asked once ‘why me?’ when I lived in fear constantly. I took it as my lot. But all I want now is my last few years of happiness spent with my gorgeous man.

My heart hurts so. I can’t even begin to describe the pain I feel especially now, especially tonight. Excuse me if I write poorly and my eloquence lacks, but my eyes waver under the constant barrage of tears, and I can barely breathe with this pain. Nothing can touch my pain, not even the soft words spoken beside me. This, to me, is cruel and no one, I mean NO ONE should decide if two people should get to spend their lives together… only themselves. Tonight is the cruelest nightmare, for tonight I don’t get to sleep. Tonight I don’t get to wake up and find it was all a dream. Tonight I do not get to hold the man I love. I long to lay and sleep the endless sleep, but even that is denied me. But if it wasn’t I would never feel those arms holding me tight… wouldn’t feel home. I love you endlessly, Jesse Cole. True to none other xx

Back in February after the big Detroit debacle something kind of odd happened. I got home that day from the airport filthy and exhausted. I showered, had coffee and went straight to my room. Jesse was on the trail of a new client, with the aid of his faithful steed. (car Ruby.) This meant a three hour drive to Kentucky and back. We didn’t get to talk much that day, but that night, as always, Jesse and I sleep-videoed. In case this is new to you (as it was us once) I’ll tell you what happens…

We started way back by accident one night while talking on phone chat. I dozed off , just a few minutes. I nearly died with embarrassment. Jesse was a gentleman and never mentioned the fact I snored. Okay… he never let me live it down! But it was all done in fun. The following week while he was up all night working he did the same. I listened to his breathing and before I knew it I actually slept. (Now if you know me, you will know sleep was rare, filled with nightmares and very hard to come by… some nights as little as twenty minutes.) But here I was sleeping a sound, deep and dreamless sleep. Jesse woke up eventually horrified and embarrassed, but when I explained how well I slept this seemed to mollify and he actually took comfort in it .

This happened a few times and each time I slept deeply and felt relaxed. Nightmares happened but Jesse was there. His closeness, albeit via phone, was such a comfort to me. Soon we both discovered that neither of us liked to sleep without the other. It became our thing and I benefited no end from actually sleeping. Still, by this time, I hadn’t video chatted. Jesse wanted me to. He said this would bring us closer and we could see each other go about daily life. I was embarrassed. Visions of him taking off as fast as he and his phone could run when he saw me. He had photos but well this was different.

One day I made him a small video message and sent it to him as a surprise. Well, he phoned straight away telling me he loved it and would treasure it, so an hour later I sent him a request for video chat. I was shy and ill at ease in the very beginning, but then he turned to me, this huge boyish grin on his face and my heart, oh I swear, it stopped right there. I looked into those twinkling eyes and was forever lost. This man has a smile that can melt my heart clean away. From then on we chatted for hours, days at a time. I’d sit and keep him company while he worked… he would play music. So would I. I even watched the England football game that year via Jesse’s TV because it was not on here. (I’m watching England play via American television! Sounds absurd but, hey, it worked.)

We didn’t chat twenty-four / seven yet but almost folks. We rarely left each other’s sides unless one of the other had to go somewhere. This we did until I visited in October. We loved the bond it gave. If we had known where it would lead, don’t think either would have believed it, but then who thought two people would fall in love quite the way we did after just one night of chatting .

Anyway after Detroit it soon became evident I was suffering the worst case of PTSD. I didn’t see it but then I wouldn’t. Jesse and my therapist on the other hand saw it all too well. I was a constant worry to them. I had became very withdrawn, never left my bed, didn’t want to eat, had symptoms of anxiety and depression, etc. etc. It was then one day Jesse said if I have to stay on with you 24/7 I will. You WILL recover. I won’t leave your side. Since then this is exactly what we do. We eat, sleep, share all day every day together. Now this was okay but neither knew where this would lead. The first time we had to go off was because Jesse’s phone died on the way back from Kentucky. Well, his battery did anyhow. He had to hang up till it got some charge. That’s when it hit me… I began shaking, became distraught, couldn’t breath, couldn’t think straight. I lay and sobbed my heart out. It felt like I would never hear from him again.

That night the two hours he was off air was the longest of my life. By the time he rang, I was a mess. It was obvious I was suffering from separation anxiety. Jesse tried hard to not let this happen again. He hated seeing how upset I had become. There were short spells of dead air and each time I became more and more anxious. I even started at the thought of it going off air. There were times that Facebook went down or we heard those dreaded pinging sounds telling us it was losing connection. I would hold my breath till it passed or until Jesse called back.

One night we were both about to find out just how much this loss of connection was to cost us both. Again, coming home on a Tuesday night, Jesse’s phone just wouldn’t charge on the phone charger and we both sat knowing what was the inevitable. We didn’t mention it because he knew I was already upset and tried to hold off for as long as he could, but the phone went down to fifteen per cent and we knew it was just a matter of time, so Jesse opted to go and let it charge a while which meant going off for at least an hour. He told me he loved me, hated saying goodbye and would be back as soon as he could.

I sat on my bed and howled. Yes, I mean howled. I hated it. The panic set in at once. I laid down on my bed, took some sleeping tablets and hoped I could sleep the time away. No such bloody luck! I was wide awake, clock watching for my sweetheart. In the end I just lay staring into space, my body overcome with adrenaline. My phone, for some reason, turned itself off. And I missed Jesse’s calls an hour later. I thought he just didn’t want me to call him. I always think: ‘that’s it, he doesn’t want to call anymore’. I looked across for some reason, saw the phone dead , screen blank and hurriedly turned it back on. There I saw umpteen missed video chats, missed calls, messages so I quickly called back. When I got through, there was my man, but instead of the calm Jesse I know so well, he, too, was amid a massive panic attack. He shouted at me for the first time: “where were you? I’ve been going out of my mind!!!!” See, Jesse, I thought, had always been the strong one, but here he was breathing ragged, sweating, the stress written across his face and there I am trying to calm him down. We both suffer panic attacks and here was when it became useful as we got how the other felt at that precise moment. I knew I had to calm him down as he was driving, so we breathed together until we both calmed down. From then on we knew this was no longer just for me. I wasn’t the only one who needed the twenty-four hour video link. Now we both did.

To be continued xx

I hate Sundays. Always have since the moment I met Jesse. Rainy, cold Sundays are just not on my favourites list. See, since we have been together, anything that could go wrong always happened on Sundays. Our first time apart after meeting was after something happened on a Sunday. I try to keep a low profile these days, preferably under my mound of fleece blankets, in my darkened room normally with cake, sweets or some kind of treat.

Today is one of those days. I’m cold, very tired (Long night. Little sleep. When I did it was full of my usual nightmares or I woke myself up snoring. Anyone else ever do this?) I realised within the first hour, sleep was but a dream (excuse the pun). So I watched Netflix. Well kind of. I looked across at my love in his usual spot, his phone home. (Yes we are still on 24/7). This has become more crucial to us both. I think I may explain about this tomorrow. Anyway, I digress as usual. I often do. Poor Jesse has a hell of a time following my conversations.

But my darling’s asleep. Soft breaths and the odd uttered word fall from the lips I miss terribly and while he lays there unaware, I look at him. I can enjoy staring at the face I know so well. This keeps me sane.

For months now we have been apart which, in itself, I find a horrendous toll on my nerves. I’ve lost much of the confidence myself and Jesse worked so very hard for weeks… months to instill. And when you started from rock bottom, this i find very frustrating as I know Jesse does. I hate it for him more than myself.

But when you live in an aquarium (yes, I meant to write that. LOL) over the months we have been apart it has come to our attention, thanks to someone close, that everything I did and said was being relayed back to those who I’d rather it hadn’t. And I mean EVERYTHING. It got to the stage I swear people knew what I was doing before I had even thought it. No, this isn’t parawotsit (paranoia), this was actually happening. My life was an open book. Now that’s okay but I’m not getting any royalties! It got so that I didn’t know who I could and couldn’t talk to. Okay… I know I live in a small town and gossip is rife, but this got back before I even left the house.

I had enough demons to face on the streets and just walking out there, recovering from the whole episode at Detroit, became harder, not knowing who can I talk to, where could I turn in times of need. Oh yes, I had Jesse and my family, but even I, who really isn’t into peopling that often, knows I do need to share the odd ‘hello’ and maybe passing coffee. I’ve shut myself away further… withdrawn from society to the point I may go for a coffee once or twice a week. The rest of the time, well, that’s spent hidden from view thanks to those who have betrayed (and they know who they are) I’m slowly reverting back into the black world of Agoraphobia. I fight it. I push myself and my body to keep going out of love for Jesse, and dare I admit it… shear bloody stubbornness.

Sometimes I struggle not to give in, but I’ve worked so hard to gain the freedom from my past and the turmoil of my nerves. But this constant feeling of being watched over, my every thought, deed reported back, leaves one feeling that you cannot do something as simple as walk, breath, just sit outside a while with the sun upon your face. I must make a sad picture sat alone in the local cafe, slowing sipping my coffee and a bottle of posh pop. (These are my only luxuries.) I make it last for as long as I can until I have to go back to my room to hide. The staff are very good and don’t mind if I take up a sofa for that hour. They are used to me talking to the soft calming voice on the phone. They are aware that I use this time to relax as best I can and are all exceptionally kind to me. I love the fact I now have a usual. (LOL) It makes me feel noted, cared about, that at least THEY would miss me if I didn’t show. (Well, them and the local gossips.)

So, these are my thoughts on this cold ,wet and very depressing Sunday afternoon. I’m sorry it’s been a while but I needed the persuasive soft tones of my darling to start writing again. (I’m so lucky his encouragement in all things keeps me pushing my boundaries.) I thought about giving up for the longest time as I knew even this was over-viewed by those who delighted in spreading the goss. Hope they enjoy. For those who are genuinely interested in Jesse and myself, I Thank you for your support and love.

Till next time, much love. xx

Now first and foremost let me say as I write this, it’s not a search for sympathy. I’m not wanting anyone to feel sorry for me. (Lord knows I do enough of this myself) But today I was chatting through messenger to two amazing women, both going through a really rough time (to put it mildly), both just needing an outstretched hand… that kind word or two. I’m out of practice these days. In my past life I helped on an agoraphobia help group as admin… just being there for folks. I loved it. It gave me a sense of purpose and great satisfaction when my outstretched hand actually touched some one’s life, threw them that lifeline. (So here I am digressing again.) Anyway, I tried my best to find a word or two of comfort, but what struck me when I was done was this overwhelming sadness.

In with that was an anger mixed, and if you know me you know I have rejected anger over the years, choosing to let it go if someone upsets me. I try seeing it their way or what drove them to this, how they formed this conclusion, answer. This helps settle me. I cannot remember the last time I actually felt any real rage inside, that red mist, the need to scream or just throw something, but here I was with this rage building at the rate of knots deep inside. (Why you’re asking?)

Well before me were two of the most beautiful, vivacious, bright woman I know, both reaching out to someone who, let’s face it, isn’t much better off. But they needed someone, anyone… that voice in the dark, that hand to hold. And, knowing how that feels, how low you get to reach out to a stranger, sat behind a screen, I gave the only thing I could: my time. (So why so angry your thinking?) Well, because, as I say, both these ladies are, in my estimation, amazing, but life, people, and sheer exhaustion has bought them low. And all I could do is offer words. I’m angry because I can’t hold them. I can’t make it all okay. I can’t tell them ‘tomorrow it’s going to be fine‘.

So, I settle for words. I tell them I love them, and I do, as I never say these words without truly meaning them. But when I left I looked across at my baby picture cellotaped on the white door over from my bed… that same picture I stare at many times when I can’t sleep. And I long to hold this child, for this child was born to never know a kind word, never hear the words ‘I love you‘, never feel a loving hand or told ‘I’m proud of you‘. Instead she knew blows, taunts. She knew harsh words, lies and a lifetime of hell. (Now where you going with this you’re asking?)

Well I get so angry for myself and not just me, but hundreds like me. Because we don’t stay children. Each one of us, as children who have never known a kind word in our lives, grow up to become disjointed, disbelieving our own value, self worth. We grow thinking that we deserve nothing good, no one good in our lives.

There I lay in my dark bedroom, still in the jaws of my own depression, trying to reach out to these ladies, give them some comfort, tell them just how amazing they are. They are working so hard to survive, to find the strength to make it through that long long day. Both these ladies have been hurt, both have known exceptionally hard lives and I admire them greatly.

Then I realised: I’ve many such ladies in my life, my own daughter being one. She grew up knowing her mum loved her. I’ve always been so very proud of her, too, but she strove so hard to get both the men/fathers in her life to love her.

This effected her whole life. She grew up trying so hard to be what they wanted, trying to turn herself inside out to please. And along the way my sweet child lost part of her. (This saddens me deeply.) I’ve tried so often to impart the thing I’ve learnt over these months, each time I look across at my photo on that door. I long to take hold of that baby and say ‘Listen, honey… no matter what is told to you, no matter how many blows you take, how many cruel words, you’re okay. It’s never about you, it’s something lacking in them. You were born innocent and perfect, as we all are‘. What I think I’m saying is from birth some of us are set up to have these incredibly hard lives, whether it’s a bad childhood which, lets face it, then sets us up most times for low self esteem, or a lifetime of having no value in ourselves. We struggle to learn, to get on later in the workplace, then onto a marriage that, quite frankly, just makes things a whole lot worse.

What can we do about this? Well when someone reaches out, don’t just say the words you think they want to hear. Listen. I mean really HEAR each other, that sadness, that cry in the dark, that lonely voice begging to be heard. I spent 55 years of my life never knowing one moment of understanding, tenderness… never knowing the feel of an outstretched hand, one that wouldn’t let me go when things got tough. The first time I knew any gentleness, a soft voice, was when I woke in the middle of the night on our first night together to feel Jesse brush back my hair from my forehead. I saw gentle eyes look into mine. Before this, all I knew was the harshness of words, how they kept you low to control, to abuse… my body either used or treated as a slave.

There are many of us out there right now knowing so little of how to escape our situations. No support… never knowing where to turn or how to in times of crisis, or just for advice. Some just need to talk. Some just need told ‘this isn’t your fault, you were and are perfect… you are amazing human beings‘. My daughter, whether she knows this or not, is one of them, and to me she’s one of the most beautiful things I ever produced in my life, as are my sons. I know I’m rambling here but please reach out to each other. Share a little of your time. Your words could do what two people’s kindness did for me: allowed me escape a private hell.

Just spare a thought for someone tonight sat alone and scared. Call. Get in touch. I know it’s tiring, but give them that hand to hold. Be that soft voice for a short while. It really does make all the difference. I’ve now a man in my life who has to reassure a million times a day at times, but this he does with love and understanding. He reminds me he’s there and loves me through so very much, for which I never thank him enough. He’s my love, my hero, and I will never forget the night a soft hand touched me just to impart love for that very first time. It will stay with me for the rest of my life, even if I never feel this again. Please… for those of you lost in your own private hells right now, reach out to someone… anyone. Please… if not for you then for those that love you, stay strong.

Sometimes things become too much. Life and all its twists and turns grab at me and I lay down under it and surrender. You know those days… that very minute you open one eye you know in that microsecond it’s going to be one of THOSE DAYS!!!

I woke yesterday and lay there under my nest of blankets, (Yes, I make a nest, it’s made up of three super soft fleece blankets and a crocheted Afghan) these I swaddle round me tight. I don’t have Jesse to hold me, so this is the next best thing. But I’m digressing yet again! Yesterday I just lay there, energy depleted, doing anything seemed like climbing mountains. (I think that really would have been easier than just getting even one leg out of my safe nest.) I wasn’t hungry, thirsty… even going to the bathroom was something I couldn’t bear thinking about. I should have known then (slaps forehead) I was heading fast towards my old friend depression, black dog, screaming blacks, whatever name you give this, it was hurtling at me at the rate of knots. (And try as I may, I couldn’t halt it.)

I wanted to retreat into myself, that place where I can keep the outside at bay. Yes, it’s dark in there and yes, it’s a place that doesn’t do me any favours, as that’s where I relive my past, revisit my self-critic and all those who did a better job of it for me. But Jesse was there for me and no one gets me better. He’s watched me go through every kind of mood and then some. He has said in the past he has had difficulty reaching me when I go too deep, but his soft voice reaches into the swirling dark mists and pulls me back from the brink.

I spent the day just getting by. I knew I was on the brink, the precipice of that blackness taking me over me. I fought it hard, (Keeping my eyes on my love’s face throughout the day, this guy is my strength, my inspiration) but try as I may that black dog nipped at my heels.

I lay on my bed letting exhaustion overtake me. Not only exhaustion, but this deep sadness, this pain that burnt… seared through to my marrow, my soul (the pain of missing the one you love).

Halfway through the day I thought of poor Jesse looking at this freaky mess, even if was only on video chat. So tentatively I put one leg out from under my blanket nest. (And put it right back in there again, too!) But after several futile attempts I did eventually manage to sit on the side of the bed. (For those with depression, you’ll get the effort needed I do this.)  From there I grabbed my phone with my beloved sitting there working away in his office, and finally managed it down to the bathroom where I successfully brushed my teeth, showered and put on clean PJs.

I sat down with my son for ten minutes for a quick chat to get my breath back… it really did take that much out of me. When I got back upstairs, I lay back on my bed. Everything was just too much effort. I wanted, no, NEEDED to go to the shop to buy groceries having nothing in to eat. But that required dressing, people, and going out doing things like walking. Now, when going to the bathroom and back is like a trek up Kilimanjaro, imagine going to the shop. No, I just couldn’t. It seemed like a step too far. (You might as well have asked me to go to the moon.)

So, there I lay till dinner time. I wasn’t hungry anyway so why worry. Dinnertime I had the talk with myself: “Theresa, you need fuel if nothing else. Eat to replenish lost energy.” (Thank goodness I listened to myself. I don’t always.)

I started the long trek down the stairs again in search of supplies or something, anything to eat. I finally hunted down a stray tin of tomato soup. It was easy prey and I love it. (Good comfort food.) This and some rice cakes I took back to my nest and forced it down. Now, if you know me, you will know I adore food. (Jesse will attest to this. He’s seen me scarf down a bowl of his chilli quicker than the land speed record.) When I can’t be bothered to eat, you know then I’m on shutdown. (This is as bad as my depression gets.) I no longer want anything to do with the outside world.

Jesse was there and I did chat with him off and on. (He’s my darling. how could I not!) But as the evening drew to a close, I felt myself slip further down into the blackness. I just wanted Jesse, wanted him to hold me, rock me in his arms tell me it was going to be ok! I WAS going to be ok.

The blackness threatened to swallow me. And do you know what? I really didn’t care. I wanted to lay under its familiarity, let it take my where it would. I wanted to surrender… wave that white flag above the darkness that I could no longer see my way out of. Yesterday, I knew all I was capable of was just breathing. And that’s no minor feat when every little thing exhausts you… when your mind is crying out for you to go to sleep and never wake up. I flippantly say JUST! But yesterday breathing took all I had. And it was only my love of Jesse that made me do that, hence the title of this. Today, again on waking, I lay ensconced in my soft nest and even opening my eyes felt an overwhelming effort, never mind getting up.

Like I do on shutdown, I lay there just staring at a section of wall. (I know that piece of wall very well now, folks.) A voice penetrated the fog.

“You ok honey?”

I nodded that I was, one of the only times I’ve lied to Jesse, because I was far from alright.

I was about as far from alright as I could get. I could see no chink of light. I couldn’t find my way out of the darkness that smothered me. I turned off the brightly coloured fairy lights that are on my brass bedstead and let the tears slide down my face. Again, all I wanted was Jesse. I could see him. I could hear that voice that soothes, but I needed contact. I needed to bury my head in his chest… smell that woody, earthy fragrance of his cologne… take a moment’s comfort there. I needed him more than ever.

Now Jesse knows when I lay in the dark (which I’m phobic of, by the way) I’m in trouble deep. Again, his hushed calm voice breaks into my solitude.

“Honey… you ok?”

I know I can’t lie again. I hate lies, even from me. I eventually say “No! No, I’m not ok. I’m far from ok. Inside, my head’s screaming. I’m in pain, the most dreadful pain. Each breath without you here or me there is hellish. I don’t want to breathe. This is what’s going through my head. But what I actually say is a scaled down version. I can feel Jesse’s frustration as all he wants is for me to hold me together, while he fights away valiantly to get our Border Patrol case heard… get me back with him forever. He knows I struggle daily with demons in my head and just getting by, sometimes, is all I can contribute. Today I look into his warm soft brown eyes and say the words every lover dreads: “Honey, this is too hard! Life without you is just too hard for me to cope with. I’m not sure I can keep going. I’m in too much pain.”

He looks at me with an honesty that breaks through to me. “Then lie down, rest a while and I’ll carry you in my back if need be.” And I knew what he meant. I understood. But by him giving me permission to just lay there and get my head straight, it was all I needed. By 2pm I had dragged my sorry butt out of my warm nest, washed and taken myself to my second home: Bramley bites. I know I’ve not the money to indulge this whim, but sometimes you must invest a little in your well-being. There I can sit and, if I want to be alone, they get this. They somehow get me. But if they think I need bringing out of myself, then these are the folks to do that very thing. And they do it so very well. Sometimes I wear my mask, that mask I use to hide the deep sadness depression that lurks within, but today within minutes I had strong coffee and good company. We chatted for half an hour and, whether it was the caffeine intake, the company or just the daylight reaching my eyes, I felt better. Now I know I’ve still a way to go on my recovery path, as I’ve not eaten yet and I still feel that sadness, but I managed to actually do a little shopping.

I’m not ready yet to join the living, do peopling of any kind, but thanks to my love and two very special ladies at Bramley’s I can breathe that bit easier. Today I’m not only breathing but ready to work on getting myself out the darkness.

Sorry I’ve not been about to update you, but things haven’t been wonderful. Myself and my love (Jesse ) have gone through many trials and tribulations, lord knows we have. I’ve have one health issue after another. Jesse is writing daily to everyone from the newspapers, MPs, TV, government… he’s working his sweet butt off. I hate I don’t have my man’s confidence and eloquence when it comes to writing. Even though we are both suffering from long bouts of depression, Jesse works tirelessly daily. He has this wonderful optimism I sadly lack.

Anyway we will get to all that later. When I last blogged I was up to Thanksgiving… wonderful time I can still almost taste it. Each day that passed I dreaded. It meant I was one day nearer to going home whereas Jesse seemed as always to look to our future. One day we had the most delightful lunch with two of the sweetest people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. They were Jesse’s friends Rocky and Buffy. Again I was nervous… didn’t know quite what to expect. But I shouldn’t have been. Both are sweet and quite literally welcomed me with open arms (as I write this I can’t help but feel sad. I miss them both terribly and I only met them a few times, but felt I’d known them both all my life.) We went to a lovely little restaurant and had the most delicious Chinese food. They all had soft drinks or tea, me being the only Brit, of course, had my favourite (Budweiser). Yeah, I know, but I love the stuff. And, yes, icy cold. (We Brits hate warm beer too despite our reputation. LOL)

Throughout the meal chatter flowed freely. Thanks to everyone I felt quite at home right from the start. It was wonderful to listen to Jesse and his old friend exchange stories from their band days. Both write music, would sing. Jesse played guitar, Rocky drums. I sat quietly listening to the tales and banter. Poor Rocky thought I was bored at one point I was so quiet, (Yeah, I can be quiet. LOL) but nothing was further from the truth. I could almost picture the venue’s, see the smokey clubs, hear the music, feel the excitement. I was living their dream vicariously. I love music and felt part of this wonderful past life they wove so magically between them. Rocky’s eyes lit up as he spoke of band members and the songs they sang. I could almost see them on stage. I felt sad that I hadn’t been there to witness this amazing part of my love’s life.

Our days drifted lazily. Jesse had to work most days. I sat in the office with him reading, writing poetry, sketching (something I hadn’t done in months). I got Jesse hooked on tea, which, as a Brit, I made almost hourly LOL. Jesse by then had me split between tea and coffee. He makes damn good coffee, folks. Often we out in the evening, sometimes just for a drive, other times to our favourite Denny’s. Days drew on and Christmas approached fast. Again this troubled me in a way. As much as I adore Christmas, it meant I was nearer to returning to the UK and away from my man. Jesse tried so hard to make me see the positive. Quicker I went back, quicker I could return, but all I knew I was about to have my heart wrenched out.

One day Jesse, trying to cheer me up, took me to his local nursery. He thought it would be good for me to see all the Christmas decorations. (‘Course it was and I loved it.) I couldn’t get over the price difference from GB to USA mind but Jesse, not quite knowing how into Christmas I was, was just about to find out. I held his hand tightly as ever as we went in, but within minutes he lost me. Well, sort of, because before long he found me again by following the sounds. LOL. He told me when we left even though he couldn’t see me, all he heard was OH WOW! every five minutes and he followed this and soon tracked me excitedly looking at some glittery tree ornament or another. We chose one, a pretty little candle that lit up, and also bought a bag of monkey nuts for the squirrels that I had made fast friends with. Couple of weeks later we went out to find our Christmas tree. We located one in the wilds of a local shopping centre. Jesse chopped it down. OK, OK… he put it in our shopping trolley with the balls and ribbons we had both chosen for decorating said tree. That night Jesse put up the tree and we both enjoyed decorating it like a couple of over grown kids. Cumzi helped best he could by sitting back bemused at the pair of us. We ooooed and awwwwed and sat on the sofa, lights out, looking at the wonder of our 6ft, white lit beauty. Jesse’s eyes sparkling as he sat quietly for a moment, then turned to me and said softly ‘I love our tree‘. Thought he was going to saying ‘I love you, Treez‘ but, hey, you can’t have it all can you.

We sat that night watching TV with a glass of wine. Jesse made dinner. Many times we just found our eyes wandering over to our tree. We held each other close that night, both of us looking forward to waking up in each arms on that very first special Christmas morning… both of us full of joy and love at the fact we would share such a day.

To be continued…

When you have been granted the honour of sampling heaven on earth, does not mere life become cruel? You spend your days looking to return to those days you lived in the world created for and by two people, just ordinary people, but with a love for one another that is so strong it couldn’t be denied. Neither could turn their backs on something so pure, so gentle, yet full of a fire that burnt through their veins. When looking into someone’s eyes, you lose yourself totally and merge into one being for that moment. For that briefest of eternities you float in time, for time is lost… has no meaning. For that heartbeat he is you and you him. Flames dance, burn and flicker around you. It glows like part of you, where one kiss, so soft, so gentle, can quell my deepest fears… send my heart a-tremble yet ignite my blood… where one ‘I love you‘ is more precious than anything else of value, one has indeed found heaven and I live each day to return to the heaven I found in my love’s arms. Jesse Cole, I love you. x