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Show Moon -131 me as separate from himself-and who can blame him? I have very little self for him to see. How can I make it easier for him? I think this trip needs to be about changing my mind in a bigtime way. The thought of this tires me. I try again for the words that will allow him to release me. "Listen to me, my dear husband. You've done nothing wrong. It's me that's the problem. I'm not leaving you. I'm simply going on a trip." It's not really that simple, I know, for we've never been apart in the years we've been married, except for when I visited Joan and James before he died and then went to his funeral not long after. I think I'm starting to sound impatient. I'm not ready to explain myself, and I hate myself for this unkindness. Maybe Ruth was right, and I'm not a very nice person. His face crinkles up as if he's going to cry. He points in the direction of Windfall, who is at the fence now, snorting and shaking her head. "What about her?" "She'll get a nice rest. Please don't be so worried." "This is your home." He sweeps his arm, as if to give me all over again this fine life. I force myself to smile and say, "I know. I'll be back." But I'm not sure I mean it. I don't know where my home is, where my heart is. I could get lost out there. I cancel my summer art class at the community school, dig out my city clothes that smell of mothballs. I've decided not to take any art supplies. This feels as if I were setting out without a compass, but if I took my paper and pens, my charcoal and watercolors, Td see everything as a line, a texture, a wash of |