Taking it Slow
Under this new arrangement, the "old" Terry revives. The raging ball of anxiety, hurt feelings and anger begins to dissipate.
Slowly.
The toddler routine takes over most of the physical aspect of daily living. Up at 7, oatmeal and hot cocoa in the freezing cold kitchen (13 year old Leo has just now started drinking hot cocoa again after a 10 year ban), bundle up and walk to pre-school. Leo goes in to school and Sophie and I walk to the grocery. Shoot the bull with grocery-owners Angelo and Paul while picking up staples and then run in to Mapes five and dime for any other small necessity. Mapes is the best store in the universe. It has a thousand-year-old-smell along with rows and rows of screws, nuts, bolts, candy, school supplies, cleaning supplies, glassware, holiday decorations past and future, extension cords, whatever your life requires. In addition, in this small town with a two-block Main street, there is also a Mapes Card shop and a Mapes Toys. I should have married Mr. Mapes. After Mapes, Sophie starts to fidget in the stroller so we head back home to unload; then right back out to preschool to pick up Leo at 11:45.
I meet a beautiful blond woman at preschool. Home for lunch, then head to her house. Kids will play and Saskia and I will become friends. She is from the Netherlands and has been in the states for about five years. She is quiet, and in a very European manner, unobtrusive. She doesn't ask a lot of questions. She makes great coffee. She is relaxed with her kids, and mine. She heals.
Home for late afternoon down-time, and dinner. Now I know no one will be late for dinner. No one will call and say he's coming but not show. No one with whom to share the day. No one to get pissed at. The three of us sit down to dinner. We pray. We eat. We laugh. Weeks go by, then months. The routine heals.
The weekend arrives. Anxiety returns. But only during the transition. Then, magically, I am free.
A whole 32 hours alone. What do I want? Hard to believe. What do I want? I no longer know. But, I am free to choose. 32 hour freedom. Every single week. Normally, I don't choose anything crazy. But I could if I wanted to--that's the thing. No answering to anyone. No wondering where someone else is. What someone else is doing. Just me. Just me. I begin to love myself again.
Slowly.
Slowly.
The toddler routine takes over most of the physical aspect of daily living. Up at 7, oatmeal and hot cocoa in the freezing cold kitchen (13 year old Leo has just now started drinking hot cocoa again after a 10 year ban), bundle up and walk to pre-school. Leo goes in to school and Sophie and I walk to the grocery. Shoot the bull with grocery-owners Angelo and Paul while picking up staples and then run in to Mapes five and dime for any other small necessity. Mapes is the best store in the universe. It has a thousand-year-old-smell along with rows and rows of screws, nuts, bolts, candy, school supplies, cleaning supplies, glassware, holiday decorations past and future, extension cords, whatever your life requires. In addition, in this small town with a two-block Main street, there is also a Mapes Card shop and a Mapes Toys. I should have married Mr. Mapes. After Mapes, Sophie starts to fidget in the stroller so we head back home to unload; then right back out to preschool to pick up Leo at 11:45.
I meet a beautiful blond woman at preschool. Home for lunch, then head to her house. Kids will play and Saskia and I will become friends. She is from the Netherlands and has been in the states for about five years. She is quiet, and in a very European manner, unobtrusive. She doesn't ask a lot of questions. She makes great coffee. She is relaxed with her kids, and mine. She heals.
Home for late afternoon down-time, and dinner. Now I know no one will be late for dinner. No one will call and say he's coming but not show. No one with whom to share the day. No one to get pissed at. The three of us sit down to dinner. We pray. We eat. We laugh. Weeks go by, then months. The routine heals.
The weekend arrives. Anxiety returns. But only during the transition. Then, magically, I am free.
A whole 32 hours alone. What do I want? Hard to believe. What do I want? I no longer know. But, I am free to choose. 32 hour freedom. Every single week. Normally, I don't choose anything crazy. But I could if I wanted to--that's the thing. No answering to anyone. No wondering where someone else is. What someone else is doing. Just me. Just me. I begin to love myself again.
Slowly.
posted by Ask Me Anything at Wednesday, December 27, 2006
7 Comments:
I love the ending to this!
very interesting. intrigued - i want to hear more about what you did with your newly found free time. what did you rediscover about what you love...my friend is going through a big break-up and she keeps saying she forgot what it was like to be alone. i am sure being in a marriage and then being "not" in a marriage is even more shocking to the system.
love this post. those moments of "hey, I remember me," the realization of freedom, and especially the slowly re-emerging self-love.
so much i am kindred to in your posts.
thanks for writing it.
Very funny- you should have married Mr. Mapes.
Terry Mapes???? Doesn't sound quite right. Great point you bring up about the "freedom" of time spent alone.
SO Terry, the "funny" with the Mr. Mapes, and the sadness, too. I remember that "cold kitchen", and also the laughter. Even during your darkest days, there was always laughter in your home. How many of us can say that?
Terry, you have a way of saying what so many of us think with abosolute clarity. I'm sure most of us fight the conflict of who we are vs what we do. I know I have for years.
Love your story.
I read this and thought - I'm not blonde!!!!!!!then read further...What an ego.
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