Dirty Laundry (Get Dirty 2)

So we sit and wait. Hiding out doesn’t feel right. I still feel like yelling from the rooftops that Donnie is a scumbag, maybe actually punching him for good measure since he’s using that claim to garner sympathy like the master manipulator that he is. But Todd assured me that that’s not a good idea, and Elise and Sarah agree with him. I know I’m not thinking straight on this issue, so I’m trusting their judgment.

Other than the sneaky viewing of the shows and the drama outside our door, sitting at home has been oddly easy. We’ve spent long hours eating, playing board games, watching movies, and hanging out just the four of us.

I work off my stress in my home gym and in my music room, furiously creating dark licks on my guitar that I’m not sure are country or sometimes angry metal. It’s helpful, and each night as I set my guitar aside and look at my red, aching fingertips, I feel better.

It might be hostile outside these walls, but in here, we’re safe, cocooned together and bonding more and more each passing minute.

Emerging from my shower following a good afternoon workout, I grab a beer and look out the window to the back porch and the setting sun. I can hear Elise and Carsen talking outside, but it seems like they’re speaking in code, their backs to me so I can’t see what they’re doing.

“So go under, over, pull a loop, and then cast off the left.”

“Okay, but what about this piece?”

Curious what they’re up to, I quietly sneak out the back door, moving to the side so that I can see them better. To my heart-warming surprise, my girls are sitting face to face on the patio lounger, their legs crisscrossed, mirroring each other as Elise teaches Carsen to knit. It’s a beautiful picture, tender and sweet as they giggle at the uncooperative yarn. The soft laughs feel like a balm to my soul with all the anxiety lately, and I can see Elise being maybe not a mother to Carsen, but motherly.

I never realized just how much Carsen needs that. She has Sarah, and always will, but this feels different and special. My little girl can only be happier surrounded by more love, and I realize that Sarah was right all along about my dating.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and look up, where I see Sarah standing in the window of her bedroom, giving me a nod. I give her a nod back, and she smiles before stepping back, giving us a moment of privacy.

I’m glad, because nothing could compare to this moment right here. The woman I love sharing one of her passions with my little girl, teaching her so much more than just skills with yarn.

Elise must feel my eyes on her because she looks over, grinning as she holds up her little patch of yellow. “Hey creeper, you just gonna stand there and watch? Come on over and see what we’re working on.”

Carsen looks up, delight written across her face, “Look, Dad! Elise helped me get two whole rows done.”

I look at the small tangle of knots and loops she’s holding up, clueless whether it’s right or wrong, good or bad, but she’s proud of it and that’s all I need to know I’m proud too. “Great job, honey! So what are you guys trying to make?”

“Well, since we don’t know how long we’re in for,” Elise says, “I figured this was a perfect time to learn. And we’ll start with the same project I started with, a coaster. Simple, small, and it’ll keep us busy. Be productive, all that good stuff.”

I plop onto the lounger nearest them, sipping at my beer and watching the pink sunset light wash over their faces, thanking the fates for bringing me this moment. A little beauty with the ugly, a bit of joy with the pain. I hop up, suddenly inspired.

“Keith, you okay?” Elise hollers as I head inside.

“Fine,” I yell back, not stopping. “Don’t move.”

I grab one of the notebooks scattered throughout the house and rush back to my perch on the chair, a song taking shape in my mind already. This is different from the angry, rage-fueled metal-country that could still make some damn good songs. This time, as I sit and watch my girls knitting and chatting, I feel peace and gratitude and love.

I watch the sun set on another blessed day.

I think about the storm raging beyond our doors and my need to keep my family safe and surrounded by love.

Before the last sun ray dips below the horizon, I’m done. It’s not a ballad, it’s not a party jam . . . it’s something else. It’s a good one too. I can feel it in my bones.