Soap made of goat's milk doesn't lather

All today I've been very sad

I haven't heard from Ron for a couple of days and I was woried. Weekends aren't normally good for us anyway because he goes up to the mountains to see his kids and reception is bad there. But today I've been more uneasy than usual, getting tot he point where I was convincd that he was either in the hospital or dead.

Matters weren't helped by a comment left on one of my blog entries trying to subtley suggest that by going back to Australia I must a) not care very much, b) he's playing me because he doesn't want me around or c) a combination of the two. I won't say that I laughed at the comment because I didn't but one thing I do feel confident about is the depth of the love and committmment that Ron and I share and nothing is going to shake that.

Anyway, he's in the hospital. Hopefully, he will get out later in the week.

Hopefully.

I can feel him slipping away from me and it is so devastating.

He's dreaming true again, dreaming of the places he and I will now never go to together, holding my hand as we scramble down sheer striped rock wall faces to limpid pools of translucent water far below. Where fleeting bands of sunlight turn ordinary shapes into gold encrusted sculptures. Where the air smells like warm honey, fecund and rich. He turns to me and brushes a lock of hair from my eyes, leans forwards and lightly passes his lips back and forth over mine.

That was his dream. '

Last night on hospital tv, via the Disovery channel he found the place and the name, 'Karajini'.

Yesterday he was spraying my perfume on the passenger seat in his truck because it makes him 'think of you and it smells like love'.

Today he's in a white sterile environment, hooked up to numerous painful and invasive tubes, having all manner of indignities done to him. So many machines, so much monitoring.

And each little beep takes him a little bit further away from me.