Counting to 12 but no more
I woke up this morning still under the meloncholy of yesturday. My son was spending the night at a friends and my daughter came and got in bed with me first thing in the morning. I thanked her for cleaning the living room on her own, and praised her for her initiative. We spent the morning watching Practical Magic and eating our Fruit Loops on the couch.
Greyduck comes out of his bedroom and proceeds to sit on the couch next to me gives me a hug and reminds me that it’s 12 years today. I look at him for a brief moment and it hits me that it’s the 22nd of February.
12 years. We’re not divorced yet so this makes it a valid, albeit the last anniversary we’ll have together as man and wife. Not that it means much, but still, we made it 12 years under the same roof.
12 years. A wave of sadness comes over me and as Greyduck goes to get ready for work. My daughter and I finish our movie, and with each song I feel sadness, like the blanket I’m laying under, cover me. By the time the movie ends, Greyduck has left and with the closing words of the movie, “Fall in love as often as you can.” I feel overwhelmed with tears.
I crawled under the afgan and start crying. My daughter crawls over to me and wraps me in her arms and cries with me. She doesn’t even know why I’m crying, but she loves me anyway. Oh, did that feel good. Her tears helped me to stop crying, and I threw off my covers and held her in my arms.
Kids can be the best, sometimes.
12 years, and no more counting. I can only hope life has another twelve years planned for me, and maybe, this time, it can be a better 12 years then the first were. I miss being married, even if I don’t miss the problems that were in this particular marriage.
Sometimes I wonder if my heart will open up again. I have alot of love for many of my friends, but I feel closed to each of them. None of them have all of me. I’ve mentioned before about how I’m sort of in testing mode. Waiting to see who will prove themselves worth opening up to completely.
I was talking to a friend yesturday about how I feel like the trees in winter. Waiting for spring to come around and bud, but until then just standing there lifeless and bare.
I have this huge flowering cherry tree in front of my yard. The tree stretches up toward the sky. All the branches reach up from the trunk, stretching and reaching, yet bare and empty. Waiting for the warmth that tells them it’s time to open and to bloom. I’ve been staring at this tree all this week….realizing that we are often like a tree in winter.
But I’m tired of waiting. I wait for so many things to happen. Things that are completely out of my control, but affect my life. All one can do is live their life and see what comes along the way, but it’s disheartening to know how much impacts your life, and that you have no control over them because they are dependant on others.
Believe it or not, this will not be the worst anniversary I’ve ever had…although it’s the first time I forgot about an anniversary. I knew it was coming, but blissfully, work and the PTA kept me occupied.
The meloncholy I’m still feeling though bothers me. It’s different then what I felt while I waited for dad to die, and it’s differnet then what I felt when Greyduck and I agreed to divorce, and it’s different then the devestation I felt when Frock hurt me. It was weird yesturday, I got to my event, smiled and had a good time, but as soon as everyone left my face dropped and I felt like a piece of stone.
Being depressed is not in my nature. It doesn’t help anything, and hopefully, it won’t last long.
Shoot….12 years.
