Today, for me, has been tinged with a bit of melancholy. If I had remained married, this would have been my ex-husband and I’s twenty-third wedding anniversary. I still remember that day vividly – almost as if it were just a few weeks ago. We had married in upstate New York where Phil was born and raised. The day was warm and muggy, with threats of rain here and there. We had a small, simple service, with mostly family. In fact, our reception was help at Phil’s parents house just a few blocks from the church.
I remember such a feeling of hope – of endless possibilities – and of course a lot of euphoria as we were in “love” and wrapped up in the those emotions. After conversation and laughter with those we cared for the most, we said our “goodbyes”. We packed up Phil’s Volkswagen GTI, filled almost to the roof with all his belongings with just enough space for our summer kitten acquisition, Igor, to make his way from the front to the back. We headed down the freeway, with family and friends in the rearview and nothing but open space and bright future on the horizon. I remember hour upon hour of conversation in the car as we drove cross-country and not having a single care or worry in the world.
Fast forward to twelve years, three kids, numerous pets, and a couple of houses later, we moved from the Carpenters’ song about white lace and promises to their other top ten hit, “Hurting Each Other”. No longer was I hopeful – quite the opposite, and the road ahead was full of worries, preoccupations and uncertainty. And I was alone.
Alone – seems to be a common state of being for myself. Often, I wonder how I end up by myself. Phil is not the first man to break my heart or the last. There have been quite a few. I have had way more failed relationships than successful ones. And, sadly I realize that the one common denominator in all these scenarios has been myself. Quite humbling … I have experienced great success in so many other facets of my life; even found myself under a few lucky stars. However, this is one area of my life where I feel I fall short; my Achilles’ heel. To love and be loved … sounds so simple and yet … it has not been my experience. And after all the bumps, bruises and false starts, I am no longer that eager to try or start over again. “Till now I always got by on my own.”
Two freeways diverged ... 