An Intervention

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. In the end I cried.

The outburst were almost comical and frightening at the same time. A realization I had missed seeing. The true nature of the man he actually was, not something he had become. There is an old saying:  "love is blind,"  it has more truth in it than you know.

The more I watched the childlike tantrums with their adult consequences, the more impressed I became. Not with him, but with my perception of him. Blindness had kept me from seeing it before.

One thing I was no longer confused about, was the need for an intervention.

Who should I call?

That was the question. I could call the paramedics, tell them I think he needs some time out, preferably in a round room with padding on the walls. Or I could call for a priest. One that performs exorcisms, casting demons from the wretched. Instead I prayed to an unseen God, asking him- why me..

Finally he ran out of steam. The collision of events blending in the swirl of drifting ciggarette smoke, choking the cold night air.

They say ciggarettes kill. 

~ Jackie