Watching home movies alone one night in the townhouse I share with my dog and my daughters when they happen to be home I see the way you consistently failed to pick up on the clues that I’d leave for you requests that would come through glances and smiles please help me through you never do even when I say please put down the video camera I could use a hand here you find a way to ignore my needs and serve your own looking back at these films now I see the way that my blood simmered on the stove’s back burner until the heat began to rise and rise and rise, like a volcano dominant for thousands of years bubbling just beneath the surface until finally the crust could no longer contain the pressure and it crushed forward faster and faster all of the patience and tolerance of the past gone and one day kaboom I explode and with it all of us our family our home our children our marriage any chance of love that was left between us and the hope for friendship or at least kindness gone and I wear the Scarlet letter that will mark me for the rest of my life I bear the burden of being the one that caused our demise it was me it was all me for you cannot have it any other way but as I sit on the couch and watch those movies while the slow hours tick by on this Friday night in the townhouse I own and live in with my dog and our girls when they’re home I see the ways that I tried and the ways that you failed us.

Two little bottles

Stuffed in the pocket

Who was it who left them

To be found out by me?

Six little ounces

One empty, one full

Bitter the sweetness

Black leather jacket

Two little bottles

Stuffed in the pocket

One for each hand

Who was it who left them

To be found out by me?

Dear Jace it doesn’t have to be like this

We could stop being against each other

And stop short of being for

We can acknowledge that we were two people

Once loved one another

But always wanted more

I always wanted love and affection a partner, parity play

You always wanted a housewife

You never want to a friend

And neither one of us changed

And so we grew apart

Now our lives are separate

And we don’t live in each other’s hearts

We do live on the same planet,

The same town, the same life

At least as far as our children are concerned

They’ve carried enough strife

So let’s put down our swords

Let’s pick up our palms instead

And let’s move toward peace for tomorrow instead of fighting with each other today.

I took the route through my old neighborhood this morning in the way to the OB/GYN. A seemingly unnecessary appointment as I’ve already felt the lump. The “diagnostic” radiologist will squeeze me in two weeks. So why do I need to come here today, to have them confirm that I need a specialist? I have no idea.

Over the weekend I spent too long watching old home movies. I saw with my own eyes how sweetly I nurtured my baby girl, taught her things like singing, measuring flour, and ice skating. Where was Jace? Behind the camera “correcting” me when I moved inconveniently into his shot. 

All he had to do was be kind. It was really all I ever wanted, all I ever needed. But he was incapable. I never felt supported, heard, appreciated. It’s all right there on film. The frustration in how he said my name, like it was a burden on his tongue. As if what he really was saying was, “Do I really need to remind you yet again?” Or, “You really are so incompetent. When will you ever learn?” as I moved to my right so that Lucy could be in full frame. Me, pregnant with our second, squating to explain to our daughter about ducks and princesses at Disney World. 

I loved being married. I loved being a family. Being a neighbor, a friend. I never wanted anything more.

The last time I had a diagnostic mammogram, 6 years ago, when I called Jace to tell him I needed a biopsy, he replied, “Ok. Get the test. What’s for dinner?” 

I was always so alone. And so, today, as I put on this wrinkled, teal gown, open to the front, I am by myself. I am by myself, but I am not alone. 

Meeting you at the time that I did was the best thing that ever happened to me.

And losing you at the time that I did was the best thing that ever happened to me.

And the most important lesson I ever learned and all my years of therapy and Al-Anon was that I am capable of holding space for opposing emotions at the exact same time. There doesn’t have to be all or nothing. It doesn’t have to be black and white. It can be this AND that. Both things can be true.

I love you with all of my heart and I always will. And, I am so grateful not to be responsible for you any longer.

And just like that 

I am alone

For the first time (in 33 years)

No one else

will open my door with a key on their ring.

No one will ask what’s for dinner

Or whether the dishes in the dishwasher

are clean

The dog will make demands

But even she knows she must wait

Time and space

Are mine

The nest is empty, the fledglings

have flown

I will take off my bra

Spend too long 

under a hot shower

Write a poem

And sleep like there is no tomorrow

Last night felt like the last night

You’d sleep at a home, which is also my home.

This morning, I made you a flat egg sandwich.

You took it to go.

C                                  Em

Parks his cruiser in the driveway,

C                                       Em 

Turns off the engine and the day

D                                             A

Another shift ended, he’s exhausted

D                                 A

Asks himself what it’s for 

C                       Em

His legs are so weary

C                                      Em

Miles walked for me and you

D                              A

Back tired, muscles aching

D                              A

From the lack of gratitude 

 C                      G

Some days it’s just too much

       C                            D

That thin line he has to walk 

 Am                         Em 

The one that keeps us safe

    F                              D  

The one that breaks his heart 

C                       G

And he knows that he’s loved

      C                           Em

And he knows he’s hated, too

C               G

Life ain’t so simple,

 D7                               Dsus2/D

For the simple man in blue

C                                      Em

Peanut butter on the counter

C                                     Em

Dog bowl empty on the floor

D                              A    stop

It’s days like this he wonders

D                          A   stop

What the hell is it for?

C                      G

Sometimes it’s just too much

             C                         D7/D    D7/D

The thin line that he walks

        Am                         Em   

The one that keeps us safe at night

       F                              D      D

The one that breaks his heart 

[slower]

C                                      Em

Then he thinks about the women 

C                                    Em

Who mean everything to him

D                                    A

His mother and his daughters,

D                          A

His lover, and his wife

 C                      G

Some days it’s just too much

       C                            D

That thin line he has to walk 

 Am                         Em 

The one that keeps us safe

    F                              D  

The one that breaks his heart 

C                       G

And he knows that he’s loved

      C                           Em

And he knows he’s hated, too

C               G

Life ain’t so simple,

 D7                               D

For the simple man in blue

C                              Em

But like the wounds he keeps hidden

C                              Em

He doesn’t show his pain.

C                                         Em

Tomorrow when the sun is rising

D                             A

He’ll do it all again

D                             A

He’ll do it all again

“I believe in a man who taught me love is like the ocean. I believe you swam too deep.”

Several years ago, my daughter had the harsh but important experience of learning that someone she’d chosen as a role model revealed himself, inelegantly, to be flawed. The realization knocked her sideways for a bit, left her reeling from the truth: even good, kind, and well-meaning folk cause pain sometimes. Inadvertent, perhaps, but still burns. Part of that lesson is just the human condition. And part of it comes from a place deep inside children like her, like me, who live in a fairytale like place instead of reality. Because the truth of life can be a hard look. And, really, who wants to see that? Not her, not me.

When something cracks the blue sky and the puffy clouds burst open and the rain falls down and stings your skin, you realize, I have realized, living in a pretend world isn’t the best place anymore. Not for myself, for my growth, for my heart. She realized it, too. Perhaps at the price of some innocence. But at the same time, gaining the value of living in reality. Living in truth.

And so I, too, am stepping gingerly into my new world. Choosing to move on and to be grateful for what I’ve learned, and also for all that I’ve experienced. I may have believed in fairytales longer than I should. And I’ll take awhile to lick my wounds. But ultimately I’ll climb back out into the world, feel the sun on my face, and be happy, even for those who have taught me lessons I didn’t want to learn.

I believe in a heart that craves devotion. It’s what we have in common, me and everyone I meet. I believe in a man who taught me love is like the ocean. I believe you still are he.

“Believe” Lucy Greenman. Lyrics borrowed without permission. I hope Lucy won’t mind.

I thought maybe if I covered that expanse of white siding underneath the dining room bay window with some sort of beautiful planting, the reality of its stark truth would be hidden from view. I thought that maybe something green and luscious, and edible, perhaps, would make up for how vacuous the space actually was. And the house inside, devoid of late night gigglings or sneaking into the fridge to feed one another cake, straight from the bakery box. I’d planted a fig. For, I don’t know, good luck? Fertility? Just some damned semblance of life? And, it grew, I’ll give it that. But, it never did fruit. Not once. The first summer here, I thought, “I’ll never have a home like that again,” and while in that moment, I was actually feeling sorry for myself. What I didn’t realize was that, no, I’d never again have a home that was just a shell. Here, I’d build real warmth, make real love, and thanks to one lone plant on clearance at Home Depot, even have figs. I planted the tree with just a spade, as my mean nextdoor neighbor wouldn’t loan me a shovel. And the following year my new rambunctious puppy dug up my fledling fruit tree. But today! Lawd, Almighty, today, I took a look at what a few months back was barely a few twigs in the frost, and there is fruit!! I am a grandmother! My baby fig tree is making babies of its own. I am proud and happy and cannot wait to taste the sweet jam on warmed French bread toast with chevre. Even in this heat, life is good!