The online news is always flashing its top stories when I log in. Some stories are seriously newsworthy, some gossip and celebrity-sightings, some human interest, others are odd curiosities. The other day one of those items was called 'Divorce and Dating', so I read it. It gave five tips for coping with divorce after a long-term marriage. I remember two of the things quite clearly: rekindle old hobbies and interests, and reconnect with people who knew you before that marriage. Those will help ground you to who you were/are. I have mused over how my divorce came on the heels of me reconnecting with high school friends the year prior to all this craziness. I have also, thanks to my iPod, been reconnecting with music from my early years. Some of that music is rock, some pop, and some classical. This weekend I uploaded my favorite concerto, 'Knoxville: Summer of 1915' by Samuel Barber. The Oberlin Conservatory had an annual concerto competition and the three or four winners would get to perform their concerti with the conservatory orchestra. I heard one of the seniors sing this piece and was so moved, so completely swept away by it, that I was speechless afterward. Congratulating the performer, I could do no more than babble. She probably thought I was nuts. I purchased the only known recording of the piece, one done by Leontyne Price. Leontyne Price broke the color barriers at the Met, was one of Toscanini's favorite divas, and was Samuel Barber's muse. He specifically wrote pieces (songs, song cycles, the opera 'Antony and Cleopatra') for her. During his lifetime, most of his works for soprano were recorded by Price. She had an enormous gift for sure, but I have always felt her huge, operatic voice was a mismatch for Barber's more lightly lyrical style, and the daily-life topics he illustrated in much of his music. I see that more artists have now recorded this piece, and will buy the Dawn Upshaw and maybe the Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau recording; I would like to hear how it sounds when sung by a man, especially Fischer-Dieskau. The piece, 'Knoxville', is written in what I think of as Americana style, much like that of Aaron Copland or Douglas Moore. In it, Barber does his usual masterful treatment of tone painting to enhance the lyrics. It is based on a James Agee's Pulitzer-Prize winning "A Death in the Family".
I listen to it on my iPod as I am drifting off to my assisted sleep. Yes, I am in an altered state and my sensitivity to music is magnified. The quiet, dark bedroom provides no other sensory stimuli. I am safe in my bed and there is no distraction to my listening. The music starts with a rocking, rolling accompaniment. It is like gently riding through town in a horse and buggy. 'It has become that time of evening when people sit on their porches, rocking gently and talking gently', Ah, yes, the music is the rocking chairs. Languid, gentle, peaceful like a summer evening. Next comes the brief interruption of a streetcar 'raising its iron moan, stopping, belling and stopping, stetterous!' As the piece goes on, night falls, and you can feel it. There is a distinct change in the music and the lyrics 'now is the night one blue dew' begin a section depicting the beauty of nature interspersed with mundane verses about spreading quilts on the lawn and coiling hoses, a beautiful picture of a peaceful town on a warm summer's night. Musical motifs hint at each new passage. These new melodies are introduced by the orchestra giving the listener a glimpse of new vocal lines before the singer starts a section. As nightfall arrives, the focus of the piece then turns to the child narrator. This is Agee as a four-year-old. He speaks of the love, comfort and safety of being with those he loves. 'One is an artist; he is living at home. One is a musician; she is living at home. One is my mother who is good to me. One is my father who is good to me.' The first two sentences are light and performed pizzicato but the music quickly changes to legato and rises and swells in a gush of affection for the last two sentences. And later, 'After a little I am taken in and put to bed. Sleep soft, smiling draws me unto her. And those receive me who quietly treat me as one familiar and well-beloved in that home.' Near the end of the piece the instrumentation is briefly foreboding as the singer says, 'May God bless my people, my uncle, my aunt, my mother, my good father. Oh, remember them kindly in their time of trouble and in the hour of their taking away'.
I know from having seen "A Death in the Family" that this piece is Agee's recollection of the last night his father was alive. Later that evening, at least in the play, his father and uncle drive somewhere and the codder pin, a pin that went down the steering shaft in early vehicles, released, shooting into the elder Agee's forehead, killing him instantly. A freak accident, even in the early years of the automobile.
The piece brings forth emotions in me that I cannot explain. The sensations, the brilliant meshing of words and song, the beauty, the tranquility and happiness of a southern summer evening, people surrounded by their loved ones, makes me sob. I lie in bed and I sob.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Toothless
Today started with Laura having to be at the oral surgeon's at 8:00 to have all four wisdom teeth extracted. The bottom two were impacted and the top two had already emerged through the gums. The procedure seemed to go by quickly. I don't quite see the wisdom (pun intended) in having all four out at once. You don't get the advantage of having one side of your mouth that functions or just having the pain minimized. She's in so much pain now. We have her in my bedroom taking Vicodin, ibuprofen and amoxicillin. She's miserable. I had suggested having the two bottom ones out now and the two top ones out during the summer. But I guess she only wanted to go through this once.
Kyle and I hung out in the waiting room while they hammered away on Laura's mouth. I could hear the metallic plink, plink, plink from there. 'She's really gonna hurt tonight' I thought. A young man behind the desk recognized Kyle. They had been friends in high school, and he is the oral surgeon's son. Kyle was bummed he hadn't known that ahead of time; he's sure he could have gotten us a great deal if he had told the doc he was his son's friend. I swear you can't swing a cat in this town without hitting someone who knows Kyle or his brothers.
When we were taken into the room where Laura was still in the chair, she had this strangely lost and bewildered look on her face. She looked like she had no idea what was going on It was as if she had awoke from a Rip-van-Winkle-style nap and didn't know where she was or who we were. We brought her home and as we put her in my bed she was crying. Tears streamed down her face; the anesthesia was wearing off. We had to get some smoothie into her before we could give her a Vicodin----not that I put much stock in that stuff. It never kills the pain for me. It takes only the edge off but never enough to give me comfort. We had to wipe the tears off her, wipe up all the blood and the drool, and help her out of the pain. Smoothie, Vicodin, ibuprofen, ice packs, tea bags, frozen vegetables, they all help a little.
It's times like these that make me resent feeling like I am the only parent. Where is Bill when she's hurting? Can I make it all better for her without her father's help? One evening in January she and the head cheer coach went out for a drink at the hotel across the street from the high school. While she was in there, one of the boys from the baseball team ran across the street, took the elevator to the top floor where there are meeting rooms, ran across the foyer and jumped out a window. He was lying in the street when she left. She was traumatized. She called me crying hysterically. Death is so foreign to us. Our society doesn't train us to accept death as part of living, as an unavoidable part of our existence. How are our young people supposed to handle death when it happens, especially when it is so sudden and seemingly pointless? How was I supposed to take this tragedy and make sense of it for her? I don't understand suicide, especially teen suicide. It is such a waste. I am her only parent during these times. It's a daunting task. 'Fix it, Mom. Fix it.' If Bill had been here, we could have tagged teamed it. But I was on my own.
Bill wants us to pick up Steve tomorrow while he is at the hospital. He thinks he might have to stay a few days and there is no one to take care of Stevie. Then I will leave town, and Carmi will be left to take care of him. But we all want to see him again, even Carmi and the relief caregiver, so we are more than happy to do anything to get him. He has an uncanny ability to perceive when someone is ill. At those times he crawls up on the bed next to the sick person and the warm and aura of his body have almost curative qualities. We will let him climb up on my bed with Laura. Then, if we're REALLY lucky, my new iPad will be delivered and she will be able to play with that. I took a gift card I'd received from my classroom parents and used some funds called 'adopt-a-class' to buy the iPad. It will interface with my classroom Smart Board and, in time, I might actually know how to use it. My personal reasons for getting the iPad were 1)to read my email 2)to read books from the local library and 3)to play Bejewelled on a nice big screen. But we'll let Laura play with it while she's recuperating. Kyle told Bill he'd have to talk to me about picking up Steve because Laura is under our vigilence right now. "What's wrong with her?" he asked. Kyle had already told him about the wisdom teeth, but he told him again. He is completely focused on his health, I can understand that. It's the quintessential Bill and, with his health concerns, we can write that one off to playing the cancer card.
Bill tells her she is in his will. He says he has given his friend, David, all the instructions and trusts that David will do the 'right thing'. He says Kyle found a will, although notarized, that wasn't the real will. Really??? This I gotta see.
Kyle and I hung out in the waiting room while they hammered away on Laura's mouth. I could hear the metallic plink, plink, plink from there. 'She's really gonna hurt tonight' I thought. A young man behind the desk recognized Kyle. They had been friends in high school, and he is the oral surgeon's son. Kyle was bummed he hadn't known that ahead of time; he's sure he could have gotten us a great deal if he had told the doc he was his son's friend. I swear you can't swing a cat in this town without hitting someone who knows Kyle or his brothers.
When we were taken into the room where Laura was still in the chair, she had this strangely lost and bewildered look on her face. She looked like she had no idea what was going on It was as if she had awoke from a Rip-van-Winkle-style nap and didn't know where she was or who we were. We brought her home and as we put her in my bed she was crying. Tears streamed down her face; the anesthesia was wearing off. We had to get some smoothie into her before we could give her a Vicodin----not that I put much stock in that stuff. It never kills the pain for me. It takes only the edge off but never enough to give me comfort. We had to wipe the tears off her, wipe up all the blood and the drool, and help her out of the pain. Smoothie, Vicodin, ibuprofen, ice packs, tea bags, frozen vegetables, they all help a little.
It's times like these that make me resent feeling like I am the only parent. Where is Bill when she's hurting? Can I make it all better for her without her father's help? One evening in January she and the head cheer coach went out for a drink at the hotel across the street from the high school. While she was in there, one of the boys from the baseball team ran across the street, took the elevator to the top floor where there are meeting rooms, ran across the foyer and jumped out a window. He was lying in the street when she left. She was traumatized. She called me crying hysterically. Death is so foreign to us. Our society doesn't train us to accept death as part of living, as an unavoidable part of our existence. How are our young people supposed to handle death when it happens, especially when it is so sudden and seemingly pointless? How was I supposed to take this tragedy and make sense of it for her? I don't understand suicide, especially teen suicide. It is such a waste. I am her only parent during these times. It's a daunting task. 'Fix it, Mom. Fix it.' If Bill had been here, we could have tagged teamed it. But I was on my own.
Bill wants us to pick up Steve tomorrow while he is at the hospital. He thinks he might have to stay a few days and there is no one to take care of Stevie. Then I will leave town, and Carmi will be left to take care of him. But we all want to see him again, even Carmi and the relief caregiver, so we are more than happy to do anything to get him. He has an uncanny ability to perceive when someone is ill. At those times he crawls up on the bed next to the sick person and the warm and aura of his body have almost curative qualities. We will let him climb up on my bed with Laura. Then, if we're REALLY lucky, my new iPad will be delivered and she will be able to play with that. I took a gift card I'd received from my classroom parents and used some funds called 'adopt-a-class' to buy the iPad. It will interface with my classroom Smart Board and, in time, I might actually know how to use it. My personal reasons for getting the iPad were 1)to read my email 2)to read books from the local library and 3)to play Bejewelled on a nice big screen. But we'll let Laura play with it while she's recuperating. Kyle told Bill he'd have to talk to me about picking up Steve because Laura is under our vigilence right now. "What's wrong with her?" he asked. Kyle had already told him about the wisdom teeth, but he told him again. He is completely focused on his health, I can understand that. It's the quintessential Bill and, with his health concerns, we can write that one off to playing the cancer card.
Bill tells her she is in his will. He says he has given his friend, David, all the instructions and trusts that David will do the 'right thing'. He says Kyle found a will, although notarized, that wasn't the real will. Really??? This I gotta see.
Monday, April 11, 2011
No Depo
Today I got a text from my attorney. He said the depo with Bill was canceled. I told him I already knew. It will be rescheduled for June. That's okay with me. The longer we wait, the longer my tax shelter has to grow before I have to sign it---and who knows what else---over to Bill. We have a 'trial hearing' set for the end of this month. I think it's similar to a status update. There the attorneys have to appear and tell the judge what progress we've made towards a settlement. It's a new addition to divorce proceedings. From what I hear, it was instituted because so many people were filing for divorce and never finalizing. My attorney told me we have a trial set for next March. That's okay with me. I don't know if Bill will even be alive by next March. (With the way my luck has been going, he'll probably be in complete remission and I will be paying him $2500/month for decades. Oh, joy!) Maybe his attorney won't be alive either. He got rear-ended on the freeway at about 60 mph. He already walked with a cane. He has 'forgotten' how to walk and is having back surgery this week. Oh, yeah, we won't be meeting again before June, if at all. Bill is considering getting a new attorney. Really? Is this a good idea? I don't think so. Check out how the other one recuperates from back surgery, then consider getting a new one.
I asked my attorney if it would be better or worse for us if Bill passed away before we finalized the divorce. He said it would be both. Great.
I asked my attorney if it would be better or worse for us if Bill passed away before we finalized the divorce. He said it would be both. Great.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Will There Be Another Depo?
Laura and Kyle have gone to the desert again to stay with Bill. Laura has two friends, one from college and one from beauty school, who are having babies. Megan had hers last month, and Laura can't stop buying baby clothes for her. I don't know how big a part these girls play in Laura going out there so frequently. But, nevertheless, they are going out a lot. They had the van this week and took furniture out to Bill.
Laura and I are on Spring Break now. We have two weeks off from school. We are going to go up north as soon as Bill gives his deposition at my attorney's office on Friday. They asked Bill if we could drive the van on our trip. That way we wouldn't be crammed into a car (mine) with four dog cages and mountains of stuff. We don't travel light. As an 'incentive' I said I'd have the van tuned up for him. The brakes also need some work. We'll save a lot of money because the van runs on natural gas and we'd only have to fill up twice on the whole trip.
I got a text from Kyle today: "Hey, it's Kyle, so Bill said i would be great to change the brake caliber on front. Part 50 no call fro Steve but talk to guy we gave dryer he said prbly an hour for 35 so about 85. Also FYI bills attorney is in the hospital pretty bad situation. But Friday has ben canceled." (Well this message wasn't clear but I certainly understood the last two sentences.)
Me: "omg! What happened 2 Bill's atty?"
K: "Bill says he got an a bad car accident a few years ago, rear ended at 60 mph and I guess hurt his back last week and forgot how to walk. He's in a convalescent home doing rehab"
Me:"That does not sound good!"
K: "I know it, bills pissed off"
Me:"Y is he pissed off? If Bill wants 2 help get things moving, he can rewrite his will while his atty rehabs"
K:"Cindy you need to stop that. I know it upsets you but complaining to me every change isnt helping.....Bill said I read the wrong will and laura is in it but we didn't go into details!"
I decided not to send any of the cute quips that came to mind. AND, Kyle is forgetting one thing: Bill is a liar.
Laura and I are on Spring Break now. We have two weeks off from school. We are going to go up north as soon as Bill gives his deposition at my attorney's office on Friday. They asked Bill if we could drive the van on our trip. That way we wouldn't be crammed into a car (mine) with four dog cages and mountains of stuff. We don't travel light. As an 'incentive' I said I'd have the van tuned up for him. The brakes also need some work. We'll save a lot of money because the van runs on natural gas and we'd only have to fill up twice on the whole trip.
I got a text from Kyle today: "Hey, it's Kyle, so Bill said i would be great to change the brake caliber on front. Part 50 no call fro Steve but talk to guy we gave dryer he said prbly an hour for 35 so about 85. Also FYI bills attorney is in the hospital pretty bad situation. But Friday has ben canceled." (Well this message wasn't clear but I certainly understood the last two sentences.)
Me: "omg! What happened 2 Bill's atty?"
K: "Bill says he got an a bad car accident a few years ago, rear ended at 60 mph and I guess hurt his back last week and forgot how to walk. He's in a convalescent home doing rehab"
Me:"That does not sound good!"
K: "I know it, bills pissed off"
Me:"Y is he pissed off? If Bill wants 2 help get things moving, he can rewrite his will while his atty rehabs"
K:"Cindy you need to stop that. I know it upsets you but complaining to me every change isnt helping.....Bill said I read the wrong will and laura is in it but we didn't go into details!"
I decided not to send any of the cute quips that came to mind. AND, Kyle is forgetting one thing: Bill is a liar.
ANDO LUCHANDO
I have spent a couple of weeks now trying to solve an internal conflict. It started with discomfort during my brief foray into the dating arena. I embarked on that short venture with a great attitude. I was going to learn how to date. It was an exercise for me, a way to develop and strengthen a new set of muscles. My personal goals were to 1) learn how to date. After all, I hadn't been on a date in over 23 years, and even then I only went on about five dates. My dating was back in college. I dated a lot in college. I felt like I had a handle on dating back then. We were in a small town on a small campus. No one could live off-campus or have a car (although there were exceptions---as there always are). We all ate at the usual places. Nobody went far, obviously. It was, in other words, a controlled and safe environment. I now live in a huge metropolitan area. Life and dating are exponentially more complicated. 2) I wanted to become comfortable at dating again. (There is no need for explanation here. I've been basically a married woman since 1974.) This goal moves beyond the first; it would mean that I would get to a place where I didn't cringe at the idea of a first date. It would mean that I would feel I could handle a variety of men and situations (within reason, of course). 3) I wanted to learn to look for red flags because, based on my two failed marriages, it is abundantly clear that I don't see the warning signs early on. And early on is when you need to detect and act on them. That's particularly difficult at the beginning of a relationship because that's frequently when I have a 'crush' on a guy and stars in my eyes. But it's better to get out early on than after damage and hurt have happened. And 4) I wanted to learn how to break off a relationship if it wasn't making me happy. That's right. I don't know how to break up with a guy. I thought it was time to learn to say the words, "This just isn't working out for me." I had a pattern of staying in sour relationships long after they were over because I couldn't break up with the guy. I couldn't say those words. I would either wait for the guy to break it off or break off things only when I found another person I wanted to date. Not very gutsy. Not in my best interests.
Ah, but moving into the dating scene had made me feel uncomfortable from the beginning. Why was I uncomfortable? Or better yet---why was I dating? There was a fight going on inside me. Why? What was it? Then I remembered. Mom had installed tapes in my brain and they were on 'autoplay'. Did Mom know the message she had sent? I would answer that with an emphatic 'yes'. She purposely sent me messages from very early on. The messages said 'You need to be married. You are incomplete without a man. You need to find a husband who will love you and take care of you. That's all you need: to be loved and taken care of.' For anyone who knew my mother, it would be clear she never experienced that. She had two marriages. Both were disasters. She ended up going back to work when I was nineteen and supporting the family for the rest of her life. But there wasn't much life left in her then, and she died when I was twenty nine.
But Mom wasn't the only one who made head recordings for me. Her mother and sister did the same. Those two had much better luck in turning those tapes into realities. My aunt, after a terrible marriage as a fifteen-year-old (quickly followed by motherhood, of course), met a great guy and he loved and took care of her until she died 55 years later. My grandmother married the richest boy in town, a boy whose family owned every house on the street, including hers, a boy who was the only student in school with a car, a boy her mother called 'the boy with no legs' because he was always in his car. Ten years into their marriage the big stock market crash came, his father got stomach cancer, and the family tumbled into financial obscurity. Undaunted, my grandmother continued to live her life as a pseudo-socialite, do-gooder, bridge player, interior decorator, and wannabe. She made 'honeydo lists' for my grandfather who woke up every Saturday with inexplicable migraine headaches that rendered him incapable of performing any those chores. But the marriage lasted 68 years and in time Grandma wore him down and he capitulated to all her wishes. He loved her and took care of her.
So what do I do when my head tells me I want to be on my own? When one day I wake up and realize that for decades, perhaps even since the time I was still married to my first husband, I've had a craving to be on my own? That doesn't conform to the taped messages in my head. What do I say to the tapes when I don't want to do what they've been telling me to do? What if I think the tapes are telling me to do something I don't think is in my best interest? In fact, acting on the tapes right now could possibly be harmful to me. That's what I'm feeling. What do I say to Mom? "Mom, I don't want that now. I just don't want to date. Maybe I'm still hurting from Bill. Maybe I don't want the complication of dealing with another person's intimacies right now. Maybe, just maybe, Mom, I want to be by myself. Maybe I need alone time. Maybe it would be more beneficial to me to get to know myself as a single person. Maybe I could get myself to a point where I don't make choices that are bad for me. Maybe I could learn to act in my own best interests. I know I am hard-wired to be in a relationship. I know I am loving, committed, loyal and faithful when I do commit to someone but do we have to jump right back into that? Isn't that one of the things that went wrong with Bill? I didn't tell him to go away from me for a while when we first met. I should have had alone time then but I didn't because the tapes were controlling me, my thoughts, my actions, my self-control. Maybe, Mom, it's not such a bad thing to not be in a relationship for a while."
Ah, but moving into the dating scene had made me feel uncomfortable from the beginning. Why was I uncomfortable? Or better yet---why was I dating? There was a fight going on inside me. Why? What was it? Then I remembered. Mom had installed tapes in my brain and they were on 'autoplay'. Did Mom know the message she had sent? I would answer that with an emphatic 'yes'. She purposely sent me messages from very early on. The messages said 'You need to be married. You are incomplete without a man. You need to find a husband who will love you and take care of you. That's all you need: to be loved and taken care of.' For anyone who knew my mother, it would be clear she never experienced that. She had two marriages. Both were disasters. She ended up going back to work when I was nineteen and supporting the family for the rest of her life. But there wasn't much life left in her then, and she died when I was twenty nine.
But Mom wasn't the only one who made head recordings for me. Her mother and sister did the same. Those two had much better luck in turning those tapes into realities. My aunt, after a terrible marriage as a fifteen-year-old (quickly followed by motherhood, of course), met a great guy and he loved and took care of her until she died 55 years later. My grandmother married the richest boy in town, a boy whose family owned every house on the street, including hers, a boy who was the only student in school with a car, a boy her mother called 'the boy with no legs' because he was always in his car. Ten years into their marriage the big stock market crash came, his father got stomach cancer, and the family tumbled into financial obscurity. Undaunted, my grandmother continued to live her life as a pseudo-socialite, do-gooder, bridge player, interior decorator, and wannabe. She made 'honeydo lists' for my grandfather who woke up every Saturday with inexplicable migraine headaches that rendered him incapable of performing any those chores. But the marriage lasted 68 years and in time Grandma wore him down and he capitulated to all her wishes. He loved her and took care of her.
So what do I do when my head tells me I want to be on my own? When one day I wake up and realize that for decades, perhaps even since the time I was still married to my first husband, I've had a craving to be on my own? That doesn't conform to the taped messages in my head. What do I say to the tapes when I don't want to do what they've been telling me to do? What if I think the tapes are telling me to do something I don't think is in my best interest? In fact, acting on the tapes right now could possibly be harmful to me. That's what I'm feeling. What do I say to Mom? "Mom, I don't want that now. I just don't want to date. Maybe I'm still hurting from Bill. Maybe I don't want the complication of dealing with another person's intimacies right now. Maybe, just maybe, Mom, I want to be by myself. Maybe I need alone time. Maybe it would be more beneficial to me to get to know myself as a single person. Maybe I could get myself to a point where I don't make choices that are bad for me. Maybe I could learn to act in my own best interests. I know I am hard-wired to be in a relationship. I know I am loving, committed, loyal and faithful when I do commit to someone but do we have to jump right back into that? Isn't that one of the things that went wrong with Bill? I didn't tell him to go away from me for a while when we first met. I should have had alone time then but I didn't because the tapes were controlling me, my thoughts, my actions, my self-control. Maybe, Mom, it's not such a bad thing to not be in a relationship for a while."
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The Best of Both
When I was in court and the judge threw Bill, the terminal cancer patient, out of the house and gave me possession of it, I was very surprised. I knew I was also in a big fight, a fight with the person who had been the love of my life and had been my soulmate for a quarter of a century. I was learning that passing a certain time period in marriage did not guarantee that marriage's success. I had always promised myself that I wouldn't look at marriage as an endurance contest. I promised myself that I would never be so proud that I would tout my years of marriage as an accomplishment if that marriage wasn't making me happy. With that in mind, it should be no surprise that I forgot many of our wedding anniversaries. That day in court was only the beginning of a lot of grief, both emotionally and financially.
When the judge set down his decision, I was stunned. I had already started to see that this 'law thing' was a new world for me, a world I didn't understand. This world had a language and a set of rules all its own, and those rules in particular defied my sense of logic. I was sure the judge was going to rule against me because Bill had cancer. I had already started thinking about where I would look for an apartment or a condo where Dad and I could live. I thought the judge would deem us the healthy, mobile ones, and Bill the one least capable of setting up a new living environment on his own. Cancer would trump old age, I thought. Forget the lies Bill had told him about me. I thought the judge would buy the cancer card. I was already mentally packing.
When the decision was rendered, my attorney grabbed my hand and said, "You've won. You've been completely vindicated!" I went out of the courtroom and sat on the bench. I called Laura. Sobbing, I told her that no matter how much I have to go through to get this divorce, she was worth all of it. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and for that reason alone, I was glad I had been in what had been a tough and unsatisfying marriage for 22 years.
Now that she lives with me, I am able to see the person she has become. She has his self-confident spirit. She stands up for herself and, dare I say, I think she has the upper hand in the relationship with Kyle. She is not a wallflower; she's assertive and doesn't take anybody's bull. She can return things at a store. She can argue with customer service, she can argue with anyone she feels is worth it. She's pretty good at recognizing a fool when she sees one, and expresses herself appropriately and exceedingly well. These are the qualities she gets from Bill. Physically she has his eyes, his mouth and his hair. She's smart but doesn't test well and didn't feel she was ready for college when she graduated from high school, much to my dismay. These are also reminiscent of Bill.
How does she resemble her mother? What of ME is in her? She has my coloring. She is tall like I am, taller in fact (probably all those hormone-laden foods, no?). In fact, she has my mother's skin. She can't get a tan no matter what she does. She battles with her weight. In fact, she is an inch taller than I am and is 30 pounds heavier. But I don't bug her about her weight. I don't want her to have negative issues about her body. But she's heavy and it is slightly uncomfortable for me to see her that way. She likes to look good. She always wears make-up. She is friendly and great with kids. I love to hear her talking to the children. I wish I had had that good a way with children when I was 21. She is a professional through and through. I am extremely proud of her. Did I get to the part where I tell how she resembles me? I don't think so. It's too close for me to get a thorough perspective.
When the judge set down his decision, I was stunned. I had already started to see that this 'law thing' was a new world for me, a world I didn't understand. This world had a language and a set of rules all its own, and those rules in particular defied my sense of logic. I was sure the judge was going to rule against me because Bill had cancer. I had already started thinking about where I would look for an apartment or a condo where Dad and I could live. I thought the judge would deem us the healthy, mobile ones, and Bill the one least capable of setting up a new living environment on his own. Cancer would trump old age, I thought. Forget the lies Bill had told him about me. I thought the judge would buy the cancer card. I was already mentally packing.
When the decision was rendered, my attorney grabbed my hand and said, "You've won. You've been completely vindicated!" I went out of the courtroom and sat on the bench. I called Laura. Sobbing, I told her that no matter how much I have to go through to get this divorce, she was worth all of it. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and for that reason alone, I was glad I had been in what had been a tough and unsatisfying marriage for 22 years.
Now that she lives with me, I am able to see the person she has become. She has his self-confident spirit. She stands up for herself and, dare I say, I think she has the upper hand in the relationship with Kyle. She is not a wallflower; she's assertive and doesn't take anybody's bull. She can return things at a store. She can argue with customer service, she can argue with anyone she feels is worth it. She's pretty good at recognizing a fool when she sees one, and expresses herself appropriately and exceedingly well. These are the qualities she gets from Bill. Physically she has his eyes, his mouth and his hair. She's smart but doesn't test well and didn't feel she was ready for college when she graduated from high school, much to my dismay. These are also reminiscent of Bill.
How does she resemble her mother? What of ME is in her? She has my coloring. She is tall like I am, taller in fact (probably all those hormone-laden foods, no?). In fact, she has my mother's skin. She can't get a tan no matter what she does. She battles with her weight. In fact, she is an inch taller than I am and is 30 pounds heavier. But I don't bug her about her weight. I don't want her to have negative issues about her body. But she's heavy and it is slightly uncomfortable for me to see her that way. She likes to look good. She always wears make-up. She is friendly and great with kids. I love to hear her talking to the children. I wish I had had that good a way with children when I was 21. She is a professional through and through. I am extremely proud of her. Did I get to the part where I tell how she resembles me? I don't think so. It's too close for me to get a thorough perspective.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Sex on Fire
I love the Kings of Leon song, "Sex on Fire". It's loud and beautiful and has pounding, driving lines that musically represent how my body and mind function when I am passionately in love. The lead guitar, drums, vocals all pulsate passion. Passion. How I miss passion. When I give my mind, spirit, and body to someone, it engulfs me. It is the most intense feeling I have ever had. All-consuming. Yep, that sex is on fire. I can't imagine any drug could ever possibly feel as good as that.
Today I was reminded of how it felt when I first fell in love with Bill. It seemed to be a meshing of my being with his. There was a kind of electricity that made every moment together feel like life was perfect, that being in each other's presence was the only thing that mattered, the only thing I needed to sustain me. It must be from this feeling that my mother used to say, "You can't live on love alone." Moments like those that make me think she was wrong. Every second without him lasted too long. It just felt wrong. Everything he said, everything he did, every time he touched me felt ......perfect. Those are the times when the best use of a day is to stay in bed and make love over and over and over again, to bring in food on trays and eat in the sheets. Time can go by, friends can be forgotten, lame excuses can be made for not being places, the time and passion were all I needed. Those were the days. I couldn't imagine my life without him. We could sit and talk for hours. That aspect lasted throughout our marriage. He had an ability to peer inside my soul, to comprehend and empathize with all I said or felt. He could make me relax, he could make me laugh, he could take me to emotional regions I had never before known. We had so many commonalities in our upbringings. In time we realized that our families were even from the same area. We both had an alcoholic parent, had been from similar socioeconomic backgrounds, and had grown up in similar communities. And it was based on all that----and on the idea that Bill was going got be an attorney and provide well for us----I thought marrying him was my destiny.
Apart from those similarities, our differences also looked like they balanced our relationship in such a way that his strengths were in areas where I was weak, and I was strong in areas where he was not. He brought an excitement to my life that I cannot deny were exhilarating, seductive, and a refreshing change from not only my previous marriage but my entire background. He surfed, he camped, he fished, he flew airplanes, he had a motorcycle, sophisticated cameras, skied, he had run a successful business and had bought and sold properties, off of whose sales he was now living and putting himself through law school. He exhibited an enthusiasm and an undaunted attitude toward new things. When he wanted to learn something new, he bought a book about it and taught himself how to do it. And here was another important but odd thing: he would buy things and not hesitate to return them. Why was this important? It represented his way of taking the reins and being in charge of his life. Nobody I had lived with, I mean Nobody, had ever had this attitude. When people bought something and they didn't like it, they sucked it up and kept the item. They felt that returning something required a note from the principal. It was a daunting endeavor to return something to a store for any reason at all, even if the thing didn't work right.
I was smitten.
How could that have been wrong, so very very wrong?
Today I was reminded of how it felt when I first fell in love with Bill. It seemed to be a meshing of my being with his. There was a kind of electricity that made every moment together feel like life was perfect, that being in each other's presence was the only thing that mattered, the only thing I needed to sustain me. It must be from this feeling that my mother used to say, "You can't live on love alone." Moments like those that make me think she was wrong. Every second without him lasted too long. It just felt wrong. Everything he said, everything he did, every time he touched me felt ......perfect. Those are the times when the best use of a day is to stay in bed and make love over and over and over again, to bring in food on trays and eat in the sheets. Time can go by, friends can be forgotten, lame excuses can be made for not being places, the time and passion were all I needed. Those were the days. I couldn't imagine my life without him. We could sit and talk for hours. That aspect lasted throughout our marriage. He had an ability to peer inside my soul, to comprehend and empathize with all I said or felt. He could make me relax, he could make me laugh, he could take me to emotional regions I had never before known. We had so many commonalities in our upbringings. In time we realized that our families were even from the same area. We both had an alcoholic parent, had been from similar socioeconomic backgrounds, and had grown up in similar communities. And it was based on all that----and on the idea that Bill was going got be an attorney and provide well for us----I thought marrying him was my destiny.
Apart from those similarities, our differences also looked like they balanced our relationship in such a way that his strengths were in areas where I was weak, and I was strong in areas where he was not. He brought an excitement to my life that I cannot deny were exhilarating, seductive, and a refreshing change from not only my previous marriage but my entire background. He surfed, he camped, he fished, he flew airplanes, he had a motorcycle, sophisticated cameras, skied, he had run a successful business and had bought and sold properties, off of whose sales he was now living and putting himself through law school. He exhibited an enthusiasm and an undaunted attitude toward new things. When he wanted to learn something new, he bought a book about it and taught himself how to do it. And here was another important but odd thing: he would buy things and not hesitate to return them. Why was this important? It represented his way of taking the reins and being in charge of his life. Nobody I had lived with, I mean Nobody, had ever had this attitude. When people bought something and they didn't like it, they sucked it up and kept the item. They felt that returning something required a note from the principal. It was a daunting endeavor to return something to a store for any reason at all, even if the thing didn't work right.
I was smitten.
How could that have been wrong, so very very wrong?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)