Yesterday, Willem took me to the moores in the east of the country. It was bitterly cold so we bundled and layered. I wore long wool underclothes, a wool shirt, down vest, fleece sweater, and down jacket, silk sock liners, and wool socks, and still the cold tore through me as if I hadn't bothered. I know it's possible for the human body to withstand the cold; I've seen the videos of the "Iceman", Wim Hof, swimming through a field of icebergs with nothing but swim trunks. But I am made of different stuff than this, and always find the cold difficult to tolerate.
I was glad for the break. It has been a lovely holiday season and I've been so grateful to be away from work. Since the holidays began, Willem has scheduled dates for us: a bicycle ride to a Christmas market, tickets and 3D goggles for the new Star Wars movie, and now a 2 hour train ride and hike in a nature preserve. It was beautiful countryside and I want to go back when the spring returns with the fields of heather bright and purple. But even this dormant beauty is lovely in its own right.
Willem has been cheerful during the break, eager to spend time playing and enjoying life, but I should have noted the fatigue and strain setting in behind the eyes. Three miles into our hike, the exhaustion which has haunted him for weeks, finally caught up with him. It was growing dark and Willem kept choosing paths that took us further away. I suspected he wasn't doing it intentionally and I wanted to guide us back, but my cell phone wasn't getting a clear signal so I couldn't navigate easily. Willem must have misinterpreted my frequent check-ins with my phone, and he shouted. Willem is a kind and sensitive man, and only shouts when he becomes simultaneously exhausted and frustrated, but I hate it when he does this because it makes something inside me shut off. I also was forced to recognize Willem's fatigue and I became worried because his exhaustion isn't cured by a simple rest or a few hours sleep; and I had no clean way of getting him out of the nature preserve. He would need to walk out.
So we did. It grew dark and isolated; we walked down a long road and I saw movement on this hill above: the sleek, fast movements and shadowed form of a wolf. I worried about the lack of people here. In the distance, I could see the lights of buildings, but what would I do if Willem decided he could go no further?
By the time we made it to the train station, I could feel the shuddering tiredness of the man. He pushed himself to the breaking point. In the 28 hours since we've been back at the house, he can barely keep food down. I tried to feed him last night and he vomited everything up. Today, more vomiting. I wish I could do something.
