I arrived home exhausted and emotionally drained. I had only a few days to make all the necessary arrangements. The small apartment was in as much disarray as possible, it seemed. I chose my steps carefully in order to avoid stepping on something or tripping. There was a bad smell greeting me and I cringed. What was I going to have to face? The children both slept on the living-room floor, the television on. Their father dozing off on the couch. Bowls of food lay here and there and much of it spilled and old. I had been gone for one week. I picked up my daughter Greta, careful not to wake her and carried her to her bed. Next I picked up little Teddy and placed him in his bed. One week was a long time to be away from these little treasures and my heart broke for them. I decided not to do this again. Not to leave them behind. I didn’t feel the same way about their father. I wanted to shower from the long trip but one look at the bathroom and I changed my mind. Tomorrow will be a new day. I changed into something comfortable and lay down for the few remaining hours of night, too tired to think, too tired to cry, I fell asleep. The next few days I cleaned and washed laundry and packed. I packed only the things which belonged to the children and I. Our clothes, the children’s toys and our important things. Things we love. My journals and pen and pencil collections. The kids books. I couldn’t fit their lovely bikes in the car so I promised them that I would find new ones for them soon. I packed the pictures. My Grandfather had loved taking pictures of the places he had seen on his travels. Several of them he had enlarged and put into beautiful frames, and they hung on my walls. They were works of art. I took them. I also had a few paintings of my own which I was not going to leave behind. There were a few things in the kitchen which I wanted and needed. The children’s tableware. Eating can be so challenging for a child that I always felt using familiar tableware was as essential to good nutrition as the food itself. I was certain that they had been fed like animals for the last week since the little bowls and plates with the matching utensils were still clean and put away in their places when I came home. I had taken the bowls out that first morning and that’s when I realized that they had lived on a diet of popcorn and fast food. That’s where a whole lot of the mess came from, fast food. All the useful things which could be bought again I didn’t pack. Those days the children clung to me. Where I went, they went. From room to room they were my shadows on either side. The car filled up quickly and soon there was barely going to be room for us. Apparently they hadn’t liked the new lady much. She had come to spend the night when I was gone. But only one night. She wasn’t very fond of the children or my home. They had cried an awful lot. Their father had not meant for me to find out about the lady and was in a deep lot of shit on the phone with me. But I knew. I had known. How could I not. I had had a long talk with Aunt Melinda about it. The reality of it not really hitting me because for now I had too much to do.
I hadn’t seen him since that first night when I came home. He slept on the couch, but he was gone in the morning. I could tell that he came home at night when I was asleep with Greta in her bed. He didn’t stay long and I didn’t get up to talk to him. I had nothing to say. I just wanted this to be over. Like a bad dream. You wake up and try to change the tone of the dream for fear of it continuing on when you go back to sleep. You roll over or get up and drink some milk, eat something if it’s a really bad dream. But you fear that when you lay back down the dream will continue. I wouldn’t let him see my tears. He had no right to peer into the heart he had so mercilessly broken. I had no time for all this right now anyway, with Grandma so weak and frail. She needed me and I needed her. I wanted to sit beside her and look at her beautiful, wise and peaceful face. I wanted to drink her in as if to keep her with me forever. I wanted time, time which had been stolen from me. I wanted to share her with Greta and Teddy. I want them to remember her, even just a piece of who she is. I want them to know this great lady, to be able to tell their children that they sat beside her. That they remember her. I want to shield them from this horror that is divorce. That’s why I didn’t get up. That’s why there weren’t any words in the night. No yelling. No name calling. No hateful, evil wishes to take back. The car knows how I feel. The car knows all. The car has been my sanctuary, my church, my meeting place with Jesus. My place where I can unload all. My safe place. But today my car will be my angel and carry us, myself, Greta and Teddy safely North. North to Grandma and Aunt Melinda. North to a new life a new place and new memories. There will be papers, and details and bridges to cross. But time will give us grace and a chance to be who we were born to be and love who we were born to love. Time will make us strong.
Elizabeth Williams, writing exercise, The House - chapter 3, 1,022 words
No comments:
Post a Comment