I woke up in love this morning...

But everything went to hell after that. Let me back up, to the wee small hours, first...

I told Tommy I wouldn’t bother him, but I was sitting in bed glued to Fox News & feeling so much love for him & pain for the horror they’re experiencing I had to call, knowing he’d be asleep & I’d get his voicemail. Said "Hey Tommy James, it’s me, Jeannie Jennifer" (pet nicknames we've recently given each other). "I know I said I wouldn’t bug you, which is why I’m calling so late & talking to your voicemail. Hope you’re good, not too beat up, & that everything’s coming together at the house. But, in the immortal words of my then-five-year-old brother-in-law, 'I want wif you!' Just want you to know I’m thinking of you. A lot. Be safe, & call when you get a chance. Love you bye." Short, sweet, heartfelt…

Even though I didn’t sleep very long, I woke up with a smile on my face & that tingly feeling you get when you’re sleeping next to someone you love—as well as feeling I’d also been seriously made love to. I rolled over to put my arm around him, but he wasn’t there. Huh? What happened to me between two forty-five & seven fifteen? Where did I go? Did I astral project over to Louisiana, crawl into bed with him as he lay sleeping, & make love to him? (Note I did not say 'fuck' this time—fucking is a sexual act, driven by nothing more than animal magnetism, whereas making love is when two souls long to be one and join together—with a vast amount of love & passion & tenderness—& thrust as far into each other’s centers as they can possibly get—in order to touch each other’s soul...) I have never just fucked Tommy...

I truly believed—after the incredibly loving message I left on his voicemail early this morning—that he would have called back. Immediately. If only long enough to say ‘Thanks, sweetheart, that was beautiful.’ Had I been on the receiving end of such a message, I would have called the moment I got it. But it appears I am on the giving—not receiving—end with him yet once again. It is now almost midnight, & my phone has not made one single peep all day…

Maybe my service isn’t working?!?

Worse, maybe something is terribly wrong over there. But I can’t even think about that possibility...refuse to go there at all…

It’s my ex-husband’s birthday today. Don’t know what caused that to pop into my mind—except, perhaps, because I used his youngest brother’s long-ago words to me in my message to Tommy this morning—'I want wif you...' Anyway— happy birthday, Patrick...

Drama queen extraordinare...

Well, it is not over with us. Not even close. I tend to overreact alot—read into things, over-analyze. Tommy called my cell as I was driving home from work today—got back to Nawlins Sunday & has spent the past three days with a chain saw, cutting up all the trees that fell around his property. I'd kill to be able to hold him...have never been so glad—or relieved—to hear anyone's voice in my entire life...Back at home, I replayed the last three sentences of our conversation over and over in my head. Our words and inflections are so intimate, loving – like we’ve been together forever – though in fact we’ve been together only five scant months in our entire lives, including these two recent ones. Believers say soulmates come together like they’ve never been apart, even if they’ve never met before – recognize each other immediately. That’s what happened with us the first time. And, so it seems, now, once again. So vulnerable, we are. So connected. So disconnected…

It's a nightmare down there, worse than any of us can even imagine—he said you must carry a gun with you wherever you go to protect yourself from looters. Can't even fathom the horror of it all...

A friend of a friend has a plane, & is flying in with equipment & supplies one of these days—said maybe I could hitch a ride. Providing I just wouldn't be under Tommy's feet, I'll go in a heartbeat...