The Apartment
A definite break-through. Greg taking inititiative and being decisive.
After a day or two of processing the idea, I decided I was thrilled. So, of course, I rushed right out to find him an apartment. After all, I reasoned, he made the decision to do it--and he was in NY throughout the week and would have difficulty looking at places. (Looking back on this, I can't believe how much I fully engaged in our "pattern". I was always pissed at him for not taking initiative--and the minute he did, I pulled the reigns back out of his hands immediately!)
Two blocks walk from the Ardmore train station, I spied a smallish, brick box of a building with 4 apartments. Two up, two down. Each unit had two bedrooms, one bath, a big kitchen and a decent-sized living room. Perfect fit for him alone or to have the kids sleep over. Hard wood floors, too. I left him a quick voice message to tell him about the place—and see if he was still planning on it. "Put down the deposit to save it," he told me. I did.
That Saturday, the four of us met at the building early to scope the place out. It was surreal; I had never known anyone who had had this experience--of finding a new place for your separated husband to live without you. I have to say, it was (oddly) enjoyable.
As the kids little feet raced back and forth, banging across the scratched, but dark wood floors--I realized they were really excited. They loved the idea of Dad having his own place nearby. At first, my heart dropped. "How can they be happy about this?" I thought. But then I peeked out through their eyes, and felt the excitement myself. After all, an empty, new home holds nothing but hope. Hope for things to be different there. Hope for happiness. Hope for a better life.
It drew me in--and I let it. Maybe I could just allow things unfold, rather than force them. One could always hope.
After a day or two of processing the idea, I decided I was thrilled. So, of course, I rushed right out to find him an apartment. After all, I reasoned, he made the decision to do it--and he was in NY throughout the week and would have difficulty looking at places. (Looking back on this, I can't believe how much I fully engaged in our "pattern". I was always pissed at him for not taking initiative--and the minute he did, I pulled the reigns back out of his hands immediately!)
Two blocks walk from the Ardmore train station, I spied a smallish, brick box of a building with 4 apartments. Two up, two down. Each unit had two bedrooms, one bath, a big kitchen and a decent-sized living room. Perfect fit for him alone or to have the kids sleep over. Hard wood floors, too. I left him a quick voice message to tell him about the place—and see if he was still planning on it. "Put down the deposit to save it," he told me. I did.
That Saturday, the four of us met at the building early to scope the place out. It was surreal; I had never known anyone who had had this experience--of finding a new place for your separated husband to live without you. I have to say, it was (oddly) enjoyable.
As the kids little feet raced back and forth, banging across the scratched, but dark wood floors--I realized they were really excited. They loved the idea of Dad having his own place nearby. At first, my heart dropped. "How can they be happy about this?" I thought. But then I peeked out through their eyes, and felt the excitement myself. After all, an empty, new home holds nothing but hope. Hope for things to be different there. Hope for happiness. Hope for a better life.
It drew me in--and I let it. Maybe I could just allow things unfold, rather than force them. One could always hope.
posted by Ask Me Anything at Sunday, September 02, 2007
8 Comments:
Hope may be the most powerful force on earth. I can feel its power here in your words.
Again, great story.
Love it all, especially the part about homes and hope.
Can't believe I'm just reading this now! And I call myself a friend! Beautiful writing. Beautiful insights and honesty - so Terry!
Allowing things to unfold - the hardest and most powerful thing there is. Terrific writing!
Your writing makes you transparent and we see your soul. Beautiful job catching all of the emotions as they shift and change.
Terry, I am just catching up here on your last two posts. I LOVE your writing. Your "voice." It is so easy and natural. LOVE your story.
Have you read Calvin Trillan's About Alice? Something about your style, about the simplicity of the story, reminds me very much of this.
I'm on it with "one click" Michelle. Thanks!!
i love the sentiment about a new home holding nothing but hope.
good stuff, terry!
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