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Theatrical Muse 292 Show and tell
BW nikki74
I've never been anyone who wanted to play show and tell. Even as a kid, it was something I rejected. When I was forced to do it in school, I brought and told the minimum of details. A picture of "Rover", our dog, and a paragraph or two of words. A rock I'd found on the way to school. I never wanted to talk about things on cue like that.

It had led to the breakup of every marriage. Wives wanted to talk--they always wanted to talk. On their timetable. About things I couldn't or wouldn't explain. How could I tell them that I needed the quiet of the time in the basement, the wood and rythmic motions soothing me after I'd seen the worst in people. It helped me to calm down and figure out how to deal with society and humanity. But none of them had ever understood my need for that. It wasn't a desire, it was a need.

All of them had breached the silence, the solitude, on really bad days. The blowouts and the fights were almost a relief. I was channeling anger in a completely different way, striking out verbally in a way that I needed, and they were always the victim. Not that they were always innocent, but the final blowout would always lay on my shoulders.

I can’t help wondering how Shannon would have dealt with it. Somehow I think that she might have understood. She always knew me better than anyone else.

I’m seeing someone else now, someone nobody would expect me to date. Two someones. They spend most evenings in the basement, doing their own thing while I work with my wood and hand tools. Since we all do the same job, they understand. I don’t have to say a word, just show them the emotion in my eyes and they follow me down.

It’s become our solitude now. With them, Show and Tell isn’t so bad.


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