She travels different routes now, and shops at different stores. Sometimes she forgets that he, and that old life, are literally just around the corner. 

She wakes up everyday, grateful for the birds and the brand new fig tree she planted (yesterday) with a garden spade (because she doesn’t own a real shovel and the bitter woman next door wouldn’t loan her hers). 

And she’s glad, for all she’s gaining, but she’s also sad, for all that she’s given up, like hearing the particular, awkward, rhythm of her somewhat ungraceful older daughter cantering down the stairs every single morning, not just on her custody days, or her youngest, bursting into laughter, or spontaneously sitting down at their old upright piano whose top two keys don’t play at all…

Those last few years, he used to say, “I’m not going anywhere,” as a statement of his commitment. And at first, it felt comforting. But after awhile she realized that he loved BEING MARRIED, not being married TO HER.

He was sweet, he was kind, but he was weak. She tried getting his attention, but it was senseless. He, was senseless. He couldn’t hear her, couldn’t see. So, while his declaration felt to him like the highest possible bar, to her, it felt like prison, like a sentence. And so, leaving was left all on her.

She knows that she broke him. She wishes that weren’t the case, but she couldn’t find any other way. Total destruction, was what it took, finally, to make him feel.