Tuesday was tough. Life is hard, and offers plenty of opportunity for complaint. But there wasn't a single word of discord. Tuesday was tough and it still surprises me just how much so.    It's the tough ones that make life worth living, though... I'll say that. When there's no struggle, there's no test. And the struggle makes the values most obvious. Pirsig would call it Dynamic Quality, and I know he's right.

When things just float along silently and green, it's easy to think everything's easy and green. When the shit turns ferocious, that's when you say "Oh, yeah. It's not all easy. It ain't all green." Tuesday was ferocious. Tuesday is ferocious.  We were walking along Mallard Creek, part of the St. Joseph drainage.

Tuesday said she'd never done that one; and I'd follow her anywhere. She knew it. We'd been through this all before. My cards were on the table and she was still betting. Still looking to draw more out of me. I was along for the ride and she'd taken her hands off the wheel, looking to see me sweat.

She slid off the rocks and into the drink. Damned if I was gonna let up easy, I buckled in for a ride of pure uncertainty, and got just what she was looking for.   The flow had it's own mind: brown and white. No silence. No green. Tuesday took a knock an' swam. I lost sight for a split, but rounded the bend and saw the fight of a lifetime: the fight for a life. Tuesday's.   Funny the songs that stick in my head. Yesterday was Saturday, but it's always Tuesday: "Now I gottagit away from that girl Before I go CRAAAAZY". Singing this and witnessing the struggle that makes the values most obvious, I was clear with myself. Gotta git away from that girl; but I gotta git that girl before she goes away.

Round the next bend. She's hugging the rock. She held me that way, once. Tight, like the light was fading around her. Eyes bright like the fright was about to surround her. Tuesday was tough. Tuesday _is_ tough. But for how long?

Time heals wounds, but there wasn't much time. She'd stepped on me before, but this time I let her: there was no other way. People don't respire water. Solid footing and a helping hand were Tuesday's only path to Wednesday. I could suffer some... she was at the end of her rope.  When she was safe, when she was steady, I peeled away. I had some demons to contend with still. She stood on her rock, and I knew she'd make it. She'd needed me to get that far... She could go it alone and be okay from here. I had some concerns for my own, but she was okay, so then so was I.

I'd been alone before and could see the end not so far away. There's an end to everything: even solitude; and you're not alone if someone's hoping for you, even if you're not aware. Sunday seemed like days 'till Monday. But Tuesday's on the shore for me.
Balancing my fear and her need between my body and her mind, I took the path of least consistency: I found the route that found me. I reacted where action applied force, and reinforced what actions I had left to apply. I held on. I held on.   Later, breathing on purpose again, we sat without words. I could hear her thoughts. I thought she could hear mine. I hope so. "Messin' me up with your voodoo. Doin' that stuff that you do." I hope there's a way through that's not a way out. I'm not in it for the end product. I'm in it for the 'in it'.
I'm here because here's a place to be: I want it to always be Tuesday. She drives me crazy with that boogie oogie oogie oogie oogie...
And I'll still follow her anywhere. But I'm going down first.