Dignity

"Dignity" isn't a word often associated with my home. "Chaos" is more suitable most days. The above picture  is a of a portion of our latest chaos. The Thursday before Easter, we were blessed with an unplanned (but not completely unexpected- Mom looked as if she'd swallowed a cantaloupe) surprise.  Eleven squirming bundles of puppy-warmth came into the world that night. Unfortunately, not all of them were strong enough to navigate this world. Four passed within a few days.

The remaining seven are five weeks old today. Rambunctious, playful and increasingly messy, Mr. Moo, Arrow, Smudge, Star, Diamond, Sleepy and Streak come together to form the very definition of chaos. I love each of them. I love Mr. Moo's block-headed stubborn sheer boyish puppy-ness. I love Streak's habit of pouncing into the center of any brawl, even though he's considerably smaller than his brother, Smudge, who's usually in the center between Moo and Diamond. I especially love little Diamond's tenacious personality- she's not afraid to mix it up with the boys. I love Star's sweet face. I love Arrow's calm dignity as he sits beside my feet looking up as if to say 'what's up with them?'. Sleepy's elfin looks and habit of sidling up for a surreptitious nibble on my shoe make me smile. I love them all... And I will be glad when they go to the homes we've carefully chosen for each of them and my house subsides to a lesser chaos once more.

Although this litter was unplanned, and... honestly, unwanted, each of these lives have brought joy, and each of these unwanted puppies will go to a home where they will be cherished for the rest of their lives. Because, after all, isn't that how life is supposed to work? We're supposed to be chosen, in delight. We're supposed to be loved as we mature, as we learn and grow. We're supposed to reach our full potential within a relationship...

But people are not puppies. Life doesn't always work out the way we planned. Sometimes, things go awry. Sometimes, people's hearts change. Sometimes they change their minds.

"People change, and forget to tell each other." -Lilian Hellman. 

And yet, somehow, life goes on.

I am still wrapping my mind around the idea of a forever without Ken by my side. I had dreams... dreams of the days when our kids were grown, finding their own way in the world. Of course, I knew they'd wander home now and then, but I hoped we'd equip them with the skills they need to seek out gainful employment and the desire to begin building lives of their own, separate from Mom and Dad. I looked forward to a future in which we would build the little A-frame cabin in the woods we'd talked about, where I would write and he would hunt and pursue his hobbies. I dreamed of getting old together.


The dream has changed. Ken has made his escape, moving into a new home, building a new space for himself, moving away, separating. To say it has been a painful process would be to say a tsunami is an ocean wave. Our lives have been broken apart, shattered. This separation isn't the natural growth I look forward to in my kids, the breaking off of a seed that drops away from the tree to set its roots into the soil and begin its own journey toward the sun. This was an unnatural break, the loss of a limb... and the scar will take time to heal.

In those first few days, as my kids clung like little burs to my side, a much-younger reaction than I expected, but natural considering the way their security had just been snatched away, I wondered if I'd ever be happy again. I wondered if I'd ever find love again, and if I do, if I'll be able to trust in it, if I'll ever dream of the future the way I once did. I see family and friends who have lived through this building new relationships, wearing them like an artificial limb, but there is something that rings false in many of those relationships. There is friendship. There is affection. There is companionship, all the things a human being needs to thrive, but there is something... something vital and precious that is missing. The sparkle when they look at one another is not there. The longing, the deep affection, the feeling that this one, this person and no other, can fill the space in them that needs filling, is lacking somehow.

That's not to say they're unhappy, or that they shouldn't seek out what they obviously find fulfilling. I have always known I'm a different breed. I expect too much, and too little. I'm too wild and too quiet, too lazy, too determined, too frenetic, too happy, too sad. I know I set myself apart, and now I know that it's a mistake to be anything different than who I am, or to try to settle. I know that by rejecting the idea of a casual romance, I may be creating a future in which I am alone... and I am ok with that. I have learned that I would rather be alone than change who I am. One day, perhaps someone will come along who looks at me and says

"This one. This is the one I want. This is the one who can fill that space in me that needs filling, this one, and no other."

One day, perhaps, I will be chosen and I will choose. One day. But for now, I will simply try to live my life with dignity, and look forward to whatever dreams this new future brings.

~*~*~

“Think of it! We could have gone on longing for one another and pretending not to notice forever. This obsession with dignity can ruin your life if you let it.”
~Mary Ann Shaffer

“Be strong. Live honorably and with dignity. When you don't think you can, hold on.”
~James Frey

Out of Limbo

I'd like to introduce the newest member of our family. His name is "Squirt" (via my kids, and after the little turtle in the movie, Finding Nemo).

Meet Squirt.

Squirt is an Eastern Mud Turtle. He is the victim of the "Aww, it's so cute, let's take it home!" syndrome. A friend works in a local pet shop, and someone came in the store with Squirt, explaining that relatives had returned from a trip to Georgia bearing this adorable, but unfortunately unwanted, little gift. Since my pet-shop friend is already overburdened with her own pets (many are cast-offs, abandoned by careless owners), she allowed Squirt to come and join our family. Squirt is undoubtedly unhappy about this change in his circumstances, but since reversing time is not a talent I possess, we will attempt to give him the best life possible within his new reality.


The thing about life is, it never stops changing. If it stopped changing, that would mean that growth had stopped. That all was still and silent and... cold. Life that stops changing is no longer life. And here, in our little corner of the world, life is changing again. 

Tomorrow, Ken will explain to our kids about the house he's been renovating. He'll explain that this is more than a job, that the work he's put into the place has been not for pay, but for himself. He'll tell our kids that he's moving out.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid they're going to be shattered by this news. I'm afraid of the way the monumental shift in our family is going to effect them. I'm afraid I won't be enough for them, that I won't be able to comfort away this kind of hurt. I'm afraid they will suffer life-long scars. Until now, we've been able to shield the kids, to take the body-blows into ourselves and absorb the impact. The kids felt the repercussions, of course,  but were not devastated. This time, there is no way to soften the hurt.

I'm hurting too, as he is, I know. This isn't going to be easy, for any of us. This isn't what we signed on for. This isn't how it's supposed to be and it's not fair. It's not fair. I'm going to be hearing those words a lot, I think, in coming months... and they will ring with truth. This isn't fair.

I'm masking my own pain for now. Out with Jessica yesterday, alone with my daughter, the secret we have not yet revealed to them hung between us, unspoken. She sensed its presence. I could tell by the way she waited for me to speak. She knows the disaster's coming. She just doesn't know yet that it's coming for her and her brother as well as for her dad and I.

I'm avoiding talking about my own feelings, I know. I'm focusing on my kids because they need me. There is no time for me to cry for my own loss... I have two kids whose lives are about to be irretrievably altered.They need me to keep it together, to support them while they grieve. As a mother, their pain hurts me more deeply than my own.

This morning, I read a blog by the parents of a little girl, Avery. She has an incurable genetic disease that will take her from this world too soon, and her parents are doing their best to fulfill Avery's bucket list, to see that she experiences the fullness of life in the short time she has on earth. They were faced with a parent's worst nightmare, and instead of letting it devour them, they have climbed atop the dragon's back with their daughter, and are allowing it to carry them as it flies. I hope I can learn from Avery's parents. They have found hope in a hopeless situation.

Two years ago, I followed a path. I made a choice. It has led us through some difficult places, some dark ones, but there has also been joy. There was, for a time, a sense of reconciliation... but all that time, his path was leading him further from us, into places we cannot follow. This has been a time of transition, of changes, of growing up. We have come to another crossroads, but this time it is my husband, not I, who must choose. For better or worse, he has chosen the road I turned away from, and this is one path I cannot walk with him.

I can only walk on, and look toward whatever the future may bring. 

*~*~*

My prayer for us, for my kids, for myself, and for my husband, whatever these changes bring:

"The LORD will guide you continually,

And satisfy your soul in drought,

And strengthen your bones:

You shall be like a watered garden,

And like a spring of water,

Whose waters do not fail."

Isaiah 58:11

Am I an Idiot?

Wow. Just ... wow. I didn't realize just how grumpy I've been lately until today, when I got into an argument on Facebook with a mouse.
Yeah... I know how crazy that sounds.... Let's just say that role-players are interesting people.

But I digress. My mood has been horrid lately, even though life, in general, has been good. We've had our ups and downs... but when do we not?

Our daughter is struggling to finish her first year of high school. Our son is having some trouble with homeschooling- the curriculum we began the year with is not working, at all, and we need to change our approach radically.

I can see that I will be strongly challenged next year, to keep him interested and consistent in his work. This year, I've allowed my instincts to direct us, allowing him perhaps too much leeway, but giving him the room he needs to heal and mature past his frustrations from the past couple of years.

This week, I was offered an opportunity to work on retainer for a client, a big step for a freelance writer. This... is good news. A regular paycheck is a positive move for me, giving me the independence and freedom I need, as well as the means to better support us and to perhaps begin building a savings account. So, why am I so grumpy?

I wish I knew. I have several theories. A lack of sleep. The nightmares that plague me. The feeling of being slowly buried under an avalanche as I try to dig myself out with a spoon. College, work, home-school... all with the deadening pressure of uncertainty, is crushing me.
I'm tired of feeling this way. I'm tired of feeling as if there's a hole in my life, a missing piece. I'm tired of feeling alone, even though I'm surrounded by family and friends who have been my rock throughout these past two years of turmoil.

Do these feelings mean it's time for me to make a decision? Do they mean I should move forward? Does this mean I should end my marriage?

I wish I knew. I have said, in the past, that I will not be the one to file for divorce. I have said that I will not be the one to walk away. I will not be the one to destroy us... to take that final step. I pray that I am doing the right thing. I felt, when this started happening, that God was asking me to stand firm, to keep my place, no matter what my husband chooses. I have not felt as if that has changed.

Recently, I read a book a friend has written. I read as a copy-editor, to help her prepare the final manuscript for publication. As I searched the text for misspellings, inconsistencies and typos, I found more in the pages than excellent writing. I found truth. I found advice that I wish I'd received years ago. I found truth, hope and humor from someone who has "been there and done that". I found more insight into what is "off" in my marriage that I have never before been able to put my finger on... and I found reminders about personal responsibility, accountability, loyalty and commitment. I found strength to carry on a bit longer, in hopes that God might use this particular "idiot" to His glory.

I don't know where this journey will end. I do know that I chose the more difficult path, when I made the decision to stay in my marriage. I know that it's possible I'm being stubborn, even pig-headed, about this decision. I know that by staying I am relinquishing "what might be". But... I made a promise, and it is one I intend to keep.

No matter where this road leads us, Elaine Miller's book, We All Married Idiots, has become a part of the journey I'll cherish.

Dream sweet, friends. Dreams are powerful things, the stuff hope is made of.
-Mary

~*~*~

"Make your choice, adventurous Stranger;
Strike the bell and bide the danger,
Or wonder, till it drives you mad,
What would have followed if you had."

~c.s. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew

Limbo

Limbo... It's not just a dance. According to "TheFreeDictionary.com", Limbo is:

1. Roman Catholic Church The abode of unbaptized but innocent or righteous souls, as those of infants or virtuous individuals who lived before the coming of Christ.
2. A region or condition of oblivion or neglect: Management kept her promotion in limbo for months.
3. A state or place of confinement.
4. An intermediate place or state.

We've had an unusually warm winter, with very little snow. Kame couldn't seem to make up his mind whether or not he would hibernate. He would disappear under his mulch for a few days at a time, then come out, looking for food and water. He's been in limbo... and so, it seems, have I.

A further explanation of Limbo describes it in the Catholic tradition as "the edge of hell", where unbaptized but righteous souls go to await the final judgement day. Will they be welcomed into the Kingdom of God, or cast forever into the darkness where there will be "wailing and gnashing of teeth"?

The edge of hell... That sounds familiar.

I've been walking a new path lately, one that's dim and difficult to see at times. It's narrow... rather like walking a tightrope. And I am juggling everything as I walk along, and must keep my eyes up, or risk dropping things and tumbling... with no promise of a net below.

College, home-school, freelance writing work... and my friends and family sometimes toss in other random items, like performers in a circus act. Before I know it, I'm juggling an afternoon out for coffee, kids' computers needing expensive repairs, the payment that's due for a class trip, like yesterday, the upcoming home school convention where I hope to find curriculum to better fit Arek's needs next year... and somewhere in there are editing jobs, as well as my own writing, which often seems to get lost in the mix.

I've been quiet these past three months because I am lost, stuck somewhere in Limbo. I keep moving forward... what choice do I have? But for the first time in a very long time... I don't know where I'm going. I don't have a plan. There is no light at the end of this tunnel. I feel as if I have two choices- Move forward with pursuing a divorce and destroy this family. Hurt my kids, hurt him, hurt me... all in the pursuit of a freedom that may or may not be worth it.
Or... Forgive all. Move on, as if none of it ever happened. As if the D-word never resonated like a quiet earthquake through our bedroom, opening a chasm between us that I don't know how to bridge or cross. Pretend it's not there... and risk falling in.

I don't know which way to go. The crossroads is before me, and I don't know which path to take. I'm lost, confused, hurting. I'm angry, so angry some days it feels as if I'll boil over. And I do... with tears. I know that closing my eyes to the chasm would prove disastrous, but I don't want to admit defeat, either.

The truth is, I don't want a divorce. I want my family. I want my husband. I want the man I married to be the man I need him to be. I want him to be faithful to me. To adore me. To think I'm the best thing that ever happened to him... to feel the way I felt about him before I knew about her... the way I think I could feel again, if I could believe he sincerely regretted the damage that's been inflicted.

I don't know if he can be that man. And if he can't... there really is only one choice. I just don't want to be the one to make it... and so I continue on for a little longer, here in Limbo.

~*~*~*~

"People change and forget to tell each other."
~Lillian Hellman

"Then He arose and rebuked the wind, And said to the sea, "Peace, be still!"
And the wind ceased and there was a great calm."
~Mark 4:39

A Christmas Gift

Christmas... What a beautiful word. It brings to mind mistletoe and tinsel, sparkling lights and nativity scenes... like the one my mom gave me on Ken and my first Christmas together. I'd seen the nativity set in a Home Interiors catalog, and oh, how I coveted those beautiful figures!

I didn't think I would ever own them, however. Like for many newly married couples, money was tight... but Mom somehow knew how much I loved the Greatest Stories Ever Told figures I'd been collecting, and this set was the crown jewel of the collection. When I opened the gift at our family's Christmas celebration... I cried.

Sixteen years later, as I set the figures into our china closet (they're far to precious to me to risk displaying them out in the open with a new kitten in the house and three rambunctious dogs), I cried again.

Christmas is about so many things. First and foremost, it's about Family. The first Family was broken when Eve reached up, plucking a fruit that would lead to destruction. (And how many families have been destroyed since then, when Satan whispered a lie and a hand reached out to take a "forbidden fruit"?)
Then a new Family told the next part of the story, when a humble babe was born in Bethlehem, some 2000 plus years ago, and hope once again shone in the world.

Friends are part of the story as well. Wise men and shepherds came to celebrate the birth, bringing gifts to the new family and sharing in their joy. Connections happened. I wonder what those wise men and those shepherds talked about, as they stood around that manger. Can't you imagine the conversation?
Shepherd: "Well. He's a wrinkly little thing, isn't he?"
Wise man: "I sure hope you read your star charts right! We better not have traveled all this way and taken a wrong turn at Nazareth!"

It is friends I want to write about just now. Friends who have come along side in my most difficult times, friends who know me better than anyone else. Friends who have laughed together, and cried together. Friends who've shared their troubles, their joys, and their hearts.

Over this past week leading up to Christmas, several packages and letters have arrived in the mail, gifts from friends who live far away. I sent out some packages of my own, praying they'd find their way to their destinations on time, smiling as I thought of the recipients. I still have letters to write, because that is how I do Christmas... with a lick and a promise, and rarely on time.

One of the things I enjoy most about Christmas is choosing those gifts. They are never expensive or elaborate, but the time I spend choosing them, and in some cases designing or creating them, is like time spent with the friends who will receive them. And when I receive a package, as I did today, I know the friend who put it together has done the same thing... and for a moment, we have shared time together, even if we have never met in person.

The time leading up to Christmas has been difficult for me this year, for several reasons, but when I come online and see my instant-messenger flashing, or the phone rings and a familiar number shows up on the display, my heart is soothed and I smile. When a package or letter arrives, when I open a card, I am blessed. In a world filled with the rush of Christmas, with children begging for Iphones and spouses exchanging diamonds and cars... I open a box with a few simple gifts tucked inside, and the tears come, because I am so blessed.

This entry is for my friends, for my family, for the ones who are loving me through every step of the way. I couldn't do it without you. May God bless and keep you during this most blessed, beautiful and peaceful Christmas Season, and all through the year.

Christmas is tomorrow. What are you hoping to find under your tree?

Rejoicing in the day,
-Mary
~*~*~

"For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace."

Isaiah 9:6

"¹ In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. ² (This was the first census that took place while^[a] Quirinius was governor of Syria.) ³ And everyone went to their own town to register.

⁴ So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. ⁵ He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. ⁶ While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, ⁷ and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

⁸ And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. ⁹ An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. ¹⁰ But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. ¹¹ Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹² This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

¹³ Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

¹⁴ “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

¹⁵ When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

¹⁶ So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. ¹⁷ When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, ¹⁸ and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. ¹⁹ But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. ²⁰ The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told."

Luke 2: 1-20

Giving thanks in the rain

Kame and I have a new friend. Her name is CreamsiclePumpkinPiePancakes. Pumpkin for short.

Kame isn't sure what to make of this orange-and-white tornado who has invaded his space. She climbs on his enclosure, watching as he eats, reaches through the panels to swat at him, and generally makes a nuisance of herself. The poor turtle can't even enjoy his bathing pool. She watches too cannily as he climbs up to the end, slides down his plastic ramp into the water, and climbs up to bask on the rocks. Although Pumpkin weighs little more than Kame himself, she makes him nervous and uncomfortable. He and I are a lot alike. Neither of us are fond of change.

Changes, however, are a part of life.

"Without change, there would be no butterflies."

It's the day before Thanksgiving as I write this. Ken got up this morning, fixed me breakfast, and went off to work... We spent a quiet morning together, talking about the plans for the holiday, like normal people do. We were civil and affectionate, carefully acting like everything wasn't falling apart. Like we're not quietly dismantling everything we've spent sixteen years building. Like we're not planning to divorce. Someone looking at our quiet little scene would've thought we were just another happily married couple... And once upon a time, we were.

I used to love holidays... These quiet mornings when I felt closest to my husband. When we spent time planning for spending time with the family, looking forward to relaxing and laughing together, good food and good times...
Those things are not going to go away when things change for us, but there is a sense of profound loss all the same. The holidays will still be a time of love and laughter and smiles. I believe that on my good days. But with the change looming large in front of us, moving quietly through the undercurrents of our family like a fault opening up under a neighborhood, preparing to collapse and swallow it whole... Change does not look to me like a positive thing.

I know it will be. I know, when little resentments rise up, and are quieted by knowing this state of flux is temporary, when I look toward a future in which we can be friends, and we can each live our lives without expectations, without suspicion and resentment and hurt, I know that the changes are necessary and good for our family. I know our kids will understand, one day. I know that this will get better, that it will be better.

It's raining out today. It's cold and wet and threatening to turn into sleet, sticking to the road and making everything treacherous. Soon there will be snow falling, thick and heavy and cold. I know these things must come, as they do in their season. I know also that Spring will come, in its time. With the rain falling cold and slick outside, the sun is only behind the clouds, and it will return to warm us again.

I know that the changes coming will be difficult. I know there will be tears raining, hurt feelings and cold... I know the kids won't understand, at least not at first. I know there will be pain, and I dread it. If I could live forever in this limbo, this disconnect between what is real and what they believe, and keep them happily cocooned forever, I would. I would sacrifice my own soul, bleed out a drop at a time, anything, to spare them the pain that change will bring...

But I know that butterflies left in a cocoon wither and die. I know that they must break free, they must spread their wings, they must fly. Even the struggle is a necessary part of the butterfly's emerging. If the cocoon is cut open, and they are freed too soon, the insect will perish. The fight to escape the cocoon forces the fluids in the creature's body into its wings, expanding and growing them, stretching them out to dry in the sun... until it is ready to relinquish the cocoon, and fly.

Knowing all this... I will do all I can to make this transition easier for them. I will forgive and heal and allow myself to maintain the love I had for the man who is their father. I will fight back against bitterness and anger. I will not justify wrongs, but neither will I carry the weight of grudges. For their sake, I will do what I can to be kind, to be strong, to be faithful to my God and my family, even when I feel like throwing myself down and having a colossal tantrum at the unfairness of it all. I will choose to give thanks, even now, in the rain, and I will remember the words of a very wise Sensei:

"Change is good."

~Hamato Splinter

~*~*~

Falling Away

Friends....

I wrote this post about six weeks ago. I chose, at that time, not to put it up, because my children are not aware of the decision their father and I had made.

Six weeks later, I find myself very confused. A series of events has led Ken to change his mind... And has left me standing, once again, at a crossroads.

Going back is not an option. Turning away from the path, shrugging and saying "Oh, ok, so we decided not to go this way..."

It leaves too many questions unresolved, too many steps untaken. Yet... Does moving forward mean biting the bit and running headlong into an uncertain future? I don't think so. I believe we still have a choice... Paths are still laid out before us... and we must still decide. We have no choice but to move forward... but in what direction? I don't know yet.

I am posting this because... it feels dishonest not to, and holding it back this long has caused me nothing but anxiety, self doubt and pain.

*~*~*

In the fall, the warm days can seem as if the chill will never come.

The leaves know better, though. They start to turn colors long before the first icy frost touches their edges, leaving a misty white lace and changing the landscape from the rich, vibrant greens of summer to the quieter, more sedate browns and golds of fall.

Fall brings change.

Death, decay, sleep, hibernation... the changes Fall brings can seem like an ending. For much of nature, it is an ending, the end of a life cycle for many insects and even animals, the end of a season. The leaves will die and fall away, tumbling to the ground in one grand leap of faith, dancing on the autumn breeze, free of their tether for the first... and last, time. It is an explosion of beauty and color and defiance, because the leaves know. They know winter is coming with its heavy snow. They know they are soon to be buried under the weight of frozen beauty. They know the trees will groan in their sleep as the snow lays heavy on their branches. They know, and so they dance one last time.

Knowing winter is upon them, they choose to dance.

When this journey began, this season of my life, I believed it could last. We grew through the spring, held on through the early storms, and grew rich and green in summer. There was rain, there was wind, there was sun... and we held on through it all. We grew together, and I was certain our tether would never be broken. I was sure we would grow old and brown together, there on our tree.

I was wrong.

Yesterday, Ken told me that he loves me, he respects me, but he can't be married any more. What does that mean? Can't be married anymore? You're married one moment, and then you're just... not? Does it really mean that marriage has become so stifling that he just has to break free, has to run, has to find a new way of living before he suffocates under the weight of frozen beauty? Or does it mean that the season has been spent, that our time together is just... over? The metaphor can only carry so far. Lives are meant to be shared, through many seasons, not just one, or a few. And I am no innocent. Marriage is a "we". Not a "me" and a "you". Sometime, some where, things went wrong. There wasn't enough. There was too much. The sap that nourished us has run dry and the leaves have changed color... and, it seems, the time has come to let go.

I wish I understood. I'm trying.

There is still much to decide, discussions that must take place, a life that must be divided once again into two. Grief, fear, anger... it all threatens to overwhelm me. The thought of my kids, who don't even know yet (and are the reason I can not publish this entry until things are more settled), is breaking me. Their tree is still young and green and their leaves are not ready to fall. It is their parents who have made the mistakes, not them, and we will shield them as much as we can, but I know winter will come.

I wish things were different. I wish we could have worked this out. I wish he hadn't changed his mind. I wish he still loved me. I wish... but the colors have changed, and autumn has come... and so I will let go...

And I will dance.

~*~*~