At this moment I'm supposed to be thinking about my paper. In Shakespeare's "The Winter's Tale" a jealous king falsely accuses his wife of adultery, she dies before he can ask for forgiveness, their child is abandoned in the wilderness and adopted by a shepherd, she grows up to be beautiful and catches the heart of a young prince, who turns out to be the son of a rival king... they marry, and it turns out the queen didn't really die! All is forgiven and people get married. But I don't care.
My mind is wandering.
Tales of Winter are on my mind. There's an image in my mind of a gorge, deep in the frozen heart of the wilderness. A campfire's slim strand of smoke slices into the thin mountain air, like a ghost.
When I daydream about camping, it means I'm missing my husband. My nature-loving, mountain-climbing, rugged husband.
In the background I'm watching The River Wild. It's a favorite of mine. The suspense gets to me every time. Kevin Bacon is pure evil. I've always found him attractive, but his cold eyes pierce right through me in this one. And I love Meryl Streep as the strong, capable mother and wife. But mostly, it is David Strathairn, the father, who makes me so proud. When his family is threatened and held hostage, he rises to the challenge, relying on his instincts to save their lives.
I want to turn and see Jonathan sitting beside me, a shadow on his cheeks. I want him to hold my hand and tuck a blanket around me, tell me I'll be all right... even if I know so on my own, it sounds wonderful coming from the one who takes such good care of me.
He'll be home on Friday night. Between now and then I have to get better. My paper is due tomorrow, and I have a day of work on Friday. Let's just hope that time flies.