I found out recently that someone had tried to kill the love of my life.
We hadn't been in touch for almost five years following an extremely ugly argument shortly before I moved to Yellowstone, but before that we had known each other for twenty five years, longer than I'll know anyone else in my life. What could have been a one night stand turned into an engagement which turned into an on and off relationship which turned into deep friendship which turned into repeated reunions as we lived our lives. We had our differences but there was a bond I thought would last forever.
A few months ago, a teenager broke into her house at night, bound her and stabbed her repeatedly. After passing out, she came to in her car being driven to a pond where he tried to drown her. After that failed, he planned to asphyxiate her by stuffing his shirt in the tailpipe of the car. While he was doing that, she managed to drive away and get herself to a hospital where she arrived more than four hours after he appeared in her home. It took a strong and smart woman to survive that night.
In news reports, I saw photos of the house she no longer lives in after over thirty five years there, a house that was the closest thing to a home I ever found. Her daughter, who at age eight had asked if she could call me dad, appeared beautiful and intelligent when brushing off television reporters.
Considering that I'm getting near the end of my life anyway, it has crossed my mind to go there and kill the son of a bitch who did this to her. But he's being tried as an adult on numerous charges and I think he'll suffer more by being alive. That's what I want.