I find it hard to gather a spark from anything these days. Even the positive election returns, the optimism I feel now that we’ll have new leadership in Washington, seems clouded and thin, not quite the exuberant dance of future forward that I was expecting.

I suppose I’ve been to busy saying goodbye to the good things that are October: afternoon soccer practices and Sunday football games, the dazzle of colored leaves, the singular blue of autumn skies, striking the tennis ball while dodging acorns and drifts of pine needles at the base line, jogging without gloves and a hat, standing at the bus stop in nothing but shorts and a sweat shirt and sunset after 6 p.m.

Darkness arrives at 4:30. Mornings are chill and bleak and require two cups of coffee. It is time to make Winter preparations, a fact underscored by the arrival of the plow-guy today. He spent a few minutes staking the borders of our driveway and talked with anticipation of the first snow fall. His mentioning early November storms of years’ past sounded slightly ludicrous on a day of fog and drizzle and 57 degree temperatures. But I don’t doubt his facts and feel, now, just a hair more anxious and intolerant of all the leaf drop in the yard.

And while its seasonally time to eat heavily, sleep deeply and breath slowly, I find myself unable to find a state of relaxation. I spend whole nights sweating the small stuff and the big stuff and all the stuff in between and when I finish making mental grocery lists and planning my future as a trial attorney, I turn to contemplating the purpose of human emotions.

Last night, while fluffing my pillow and popping muscle relaxers in hopes of finding temporary hibernation, I pondered the concept of jealousy and decided that while most of us learned from an early age that the inherent human emotional response of possessiveness and wanting, the peculiar rile and prickle of insecurity we know as jealousy should be stifled, I think, in fact that jealousy can serve as a necessary and effective means by which to communicate our core feelings of vulnerability and deep love.

I’m not suggesting that the type of jealousy aroused by the neighbor pulling into his three car garage in a brand new Lexus is healthy or productive, but rather, I’m talking about the kind of jealousy that makes a person feel demonstratively protective and vulnerable when it comes to their mate, a spouse or significant other.

While jealousy may be a feeling most associated with machismo – men throwing perceived competitors down the pub stairs for looking at their date wrong while shouting, Wadda you looking at, I believe there’s a certain quiet admission of jealousy that can actually bolster a relationship, leading to open discussions of commitment and need.

It takes a lot to admit one’s insecurity to an intimate partner. It’s an admission of fear, fear that “I’m not good enough, smart enough, attractive enough, funny enough to hold your attention and I fear abandonment.” Such an admission may make a person feel like a weenie. But an admission like this is also a signal that one of a pair fears the loss of the other, holds the spouse in such high esteem, and at such great value, that this loss is unfathomable and to be avoided at all costs, it can be interpreted as sweet and, at it’s simplest, can serve as much needed validation. I think that when a spouse fails to admit to jealousy they miss an opportunity to say, in no uncertain terms, I really, really don’t want to lose you to anyone at anytime. It’s so simple a possessiveness, so certain an admission of love.

I can’t help but wonder how many relationships have been ruined by outspoken and admitted jealousy versus those that could have been saved if a person had just copped to a little unseemly possessiveness and said, out loud, I value you enough to fear your going, I realize others must see the same qualities in you that I hold dear and might want them for themselves?

I smiled wanly and said, “Great, your father can walk you out.” And I watched the three of them drive to the end of the driveway and await the bus in the protective shell of the Honda Pilot. Idling warmth and shelter against the sloppy, cold rain. A nest for three.

Already they have had breakfast with at least one fruit item and no sugar cereals, I have supervised their teeth brushing even though I asked My Better Half to do it three times while I selected clothes appropriate for the day’s activities and projected weather forecast and gathered homework and binders and lunch money and all that is necessary to their day. I was ignored, My Better Half having already holed up in the home office, surfing the web, content to sit out the tough stuff.

When I trudged up the stairs to attend to dental hygiene, my oldest complained that he feels like a baby because his mother still brushes his teeth, I should have just smiled and continued the routine but instead I shouted, “You think I imagined that I’d still be brushing your teeth at this age, big guy? No, but your teeth are not what we’d hoped they’d be and so you’re stuck with me brushing kiddo. Until your old enough to pour your own beer.”

It’s a routine you’d think I’d get used to. My being the responsible adult in a home which registers on the census as a two-parent household. You’d think it wouldn’t sting anymore when the kids request their father for things like trips to the bus stop or insist on sitting next to him at the dinner table. Because it is no different than it was yesterday or the day before. He is one of them and I am one of me.

And really, I’m embracing a new goal that I swear will not be ignored – I will be happy for all those nominated bloggers out there who I read daily if only to boost my own traffic by making witty comments. Because you deserve the recognition. What joy does a blogger have beyond praise from their jealous peers and perhaps a little ad revenue?

(Borrowed the Rottweiler movie poster which, according to this website was an actual horror movie released in ‘05. I’m thinking Stephen King may have shut down the production for it’s obvious similarities to another bad dog movie but who knows what really happened to Rottweiler the film?)