I have not loved well this week. Not well, nor hard. Or right, I feel.
My temper is short and all attention has been channelled towards completing THE BOOK. This project, hereafter referred to in metaphoric form as ‘The War’, has been won through long, concerted battles and my children have been the innocent victims; asking no more from their mother (no less, either) than usual, they have been forced to listen to my restrained patience, barked orders and swallow uninspiredly prepared food.
Pdfs of the book have constantly been up on the computer monitor as I search for last minute problems or typos (and there were a few – Meine Gott) and my requests of, “Well, hey, if you won’t leave me alone how’s about I read you a story?”
Keira holds out a library book. “This one.”
I jab my finger at the screen. “No, this one. I have to keep checking it.”
“I want to go for a drive somewhere.”
“I just can’t right now. I have to think.”
“But I want – – ”
It’s usually at this point my voice raises a few decibels, I cut her short, and I cry a little inside when I see her face fight between the injustice of these repeatedly denied requests and confusion over what the hell’s going on?
As of today, this is over. As of yesterday, at 11.30am the files were Express posted and as at 8pm last night when they were uploaded via ftp to Singapore.
The book is done. The book is done.
This is where it ends, and begins.
And frankly I feel too tired at the moment to begin the next war.
The casualties in this one have been bad enough.
