February 17, 2007
Jane worries about the lack of confluence in their schedules. For example, now: he’s downstairs, watching TV; she’s upstairs, reading in bed and wishing he would join her. She treasures the moment when they turn out the light and snuggle up together in the darkness, waiting for sleep to overtake them, knowing they will wake up together in the morning, together again after the lonely night’s journey into sleep and dreams. She doesn’t want to ask, for fear of seeming too needy. But she does need him. She hopes this isn’t the beginning of the end, the long drifting apart.