She used to lie on the white carpet in her grandmother’s living room, watching the pendulum on the grandfather clock. How curious, the extremes it took to keep the momentum going. As if time itself depended on it.

And one by one, they plucked the wings off of the good idea fairy.
Flying was no longer an option
So she learned how to climb.
Foot by foot and hand by hand
She elevated herself above her station.
To a place where she could see over the horizon
And to what lay beyond
Though she was missing a piece of herself
That she’d formerly thought was integral
Soon she learned that all was not lost
For even when a power claiming to be greater than yourself
Takes away the one thing you treasure most
You can dig deep, get brave, and continue to rise
Wings are not the only way to fly

i did not have the 

strength to go with grace, instead 

i fell to my knees 

the river witness

to my utter destruction

our innocence, lost

i left the home where 

i’d swaddled our two daughters

and relearned to walk

Headlights ‘luminate the lane divide
As the cornfields turn to homes
Headed eastbound now he thinks of her
All the times he held her close

In those days when they’d meet up
In between his world and hers,

For awhile the distance broken
Holding on without a word

So much fun playing cops and robbers
No way it’d ever work
He’s all rules and regulations
She all poetry and verse

In those days they’d meet up
In between his world and hers,
For awhile the distance broken
Holding on without a word

Some days he aches for her Botero curves, DaVinci smile
There’s too much now for him to lose
He can’t succumb to his desire

So, late nights flirting ‘cross cell towers
Is all that there can be
There’s no meeting halfway anymore
Cause one plus one, plus one, is three

He’ll text hello when it’s him and her and his phone,
And she’ll say, “Goodnight, Sweet Man” awhile after
And she’ll go to sleep alone

And tomorrow when the sun arises
They’ll each stand beneath the steam
Separate showers, once were shared
Long ago in a dream

In those days they’d meet up
In between his world and hers,
For awhile the distance broken…
Holding on without a word

His new friend

offered to move him in,

Offered to support him.

She told him that if I had

Really Loved Him,

I’d be the one

Making The Offer.

That that’s

what love is.

Thankfully, I know

that’s not Love.

That’s

Manipulation.

I do love him.

And I love me.

And so, I said

No.

(Title borrowed without permission from The Nields. Hope they won’t mind.)

You are not my raison d’ etre.

No longer the sun that I orbit around

She has done for you in 4 weeks what I could not accomplish

in 4 years:

Get you sober

Get you praying

Get you work

I know it’s unfair because you did so much to heal me

And now that it’s your turn I am too healed 

To be your savior

For I love myself too much 

And my kids and my friends are too dear

For that sacrifice

Isolation. Complete devotion.

It’s what you require and now that I am here

You are there 

And I cannot be who you want

And I do not want to be who you need

I want to be me

Free

I want to fly solo 

Spread my wings and see just where the winds take me

For I know

It is my time to soar.

I am happy for you

And I will hold you in my heart

Deep, deep in my heart

For all of my days

For always. 

It never gets any easier, not when you’re 15 and you *feel* your body rip to shreds at the mere thought of *it* being over. Not at 22, when all of your life plans made around *that* relationship fall to pieces, and you spend an entire summer wailing along with Melissa Etheridge’s, “Like The Way I Do.” Not when you’re 51, and your long-deceased marriage is finally declared dead (that’s actually an entirely different sort of ache), nor four years later when your rebound “what-you-thought-would-only-be-a-2-week-fantasy-fling” flames out due to kids, and work, and politics, that pandemic puppy that you knew was not a good idea. They all hurt. But at 55, what compounds the pain, is the knowledge that you *will* get through it (because you always have). You can’t wallow in bed all summer, you can’t cry all night on the phone with your bestie (because *he* was your bestie,) you can’t even eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s (because then you’d *really* feel like shit). Balancing the *knowledge* that you’re going to be just fine, with deep the pain of the heart is so completely unsatisfying. You might as well get over it already. Maybe, I’m a glutton for punishment. Maybe, I *like* wallowing, maybe, just maybe, being a grown up kinda sucks that way, and sometimes, what you *really need* is a sad, sad song on the radio and a drippy mascara cry while you walk the dog in the early morning light. (Even as the sun shines through the trees and you hear yourself thinking, “You’re going to be alright.”)

The man who has everything gives away nothing. The man who has nothing gives away everything.

I spent 29 years of my life dating and married to a smart man, an excellent provider, who could not even bring himself to tell me goodnight.

For four years now I have been with a man who barely escaped high school, but who chooses to warm both our plates in the oven until we both can sit down to eat, toasting glasses and sharing conversation.

The difference is astounding. 

Tomorrow I face the first man, my ex, in court, again. The 6th return to face off on what was his bogus and yet, successful, bid for child support and my hopefully, tied up soon, challenge for reimbursements and equity. I am not certain Justice will prevail, but I know I must fight, for myself; for my daughters.

A few days ago as I walked in the woods behind my house, I recounted all the things I hate about my ex. I made a mental list so that I wouldn’t forget. 1) the smell of his head and shoulders hair 2) the way he clicks his tongue in conversation 3) the way he chews m&m candies while watching a movie, loudly, with his front teeth 4) his never clearing his own dish, much less anyone else’s 5) his desperate need to account for every dollar spent at my weekly visits to Target. I could go on.

He has yet to share his tax return with me, an obligation for mediation, so I am nervous about what stunt he will try to pull in court tomorrow, what verbal tango he’ll perform in an attempt to manuever his way around the truth. 

He has everything. And he gives away nothing.

Civil war. “Everything we were went into that war, and everything we are came out of it.” (Johnathan Gill)

I thought I knew what I wanted, “Wooster, psychology, fall in love and be happy,” 

It took a long time to admit it, but I finally did: what I had was not what I wanted, and no, I was not happy.

And so I left. And one step at a time (and two steps back) I’ve made it. Here. To a life that’s mine. A house that’s mine. A dog that’s mine. A job that pays the bills, mine. A lover who makes delicious morning coffee, mine. A bed where I sleep with yesterday’s clothes at the foot, mine. A shower (lacking repugnant head and shoulders), mine. I clean when I want, I eat when (and where) I want, I sing and dance and cheer. I like candles (mine) and watch corny movies, I chat with friends (mine) and text with my daughters (ok, ours, but mine all mine when we take selfies on the deck (mine). 

I went into the war with everything that I was, everything that I had. I gave 3 decades to the battle and came out with scars. And though I gave all that I had to give, it wasn’t enough. It would never be. And so I surrendered. And now I am all that I am and more. I am mine. Everything I am now, came out of the war. I have won. I am me.

Hi Lynn, it’s Maura.

Last we exchanged notes we both were going through a tough time. My marriage was over and your old dog had passed away. Those scant three years ago feel like an eternity, don’t they?

Three years hence and I am no longer in Reston, no longer have my old lady dog, and am no longer with Mission BBQ…

I now own my own townhouse, have a brand new 10 month old crazy pup and a fledgling career in communications.

Lucy left yesterday for her senior year in college and Annie Rose began her last year of high school last Thursday. Both girls are doing very well. We’ve all worked really hard at forgiveness. I think our bond is stronger than ever.

Jace and I are still battling one another in court. The next appearance is Sept 14. He emailed me tonight to see if we could settle and then in true narcissist form, scoffed at my boundaries (to see his tax return). I am no longer victim to his bullying. I will not yield just because he tells me to.

I have found my voice. I have found my sense of purpose. On good days I am productive and happy. On others I take deep breaths, and strive to do the next right thing.

I am a work in progress. And that’s ok. I’ve got the rest of my lifetime to learn how to do and be me.

I’m getting there, one day at a time.