Archive | October, 2013

Horizon

30 Oct

peer

I had the morning off today and I took a long walk along the peer and looked at the water. It was a beautiful beginning-of-fall day, with a bit a wind, grayish skies, and a gloominess that makes you reminiscent and somehow pleasantly melancholy. I love this type of weather. I can sit for hours watching the waves and contemplating life, arriving at endless conclusions that have no practical implications on my life.

I stood there, leaning on the railing, looking at the horizon, and as always felt overwhelmed by the vastness of it all, so many possibilities, so many opportunities, an openness that the future seems to hold when you take time off work and stare into the ocean. It filled me with such hope and happiness that I had to take a picture, so I pulled out my phone.

Then I took a step back, and I noticed the railing, which was actually a fence, a barrier installed to keep people from falling or jumping into the water. A barrier keeping people from that vastness, from that openness, narrowing down possibilities and opportunities. I suddenly felt held back, constrained, angry even.

And there you have it. Like everything else, the peer on a fall morning is a completely different experience, depending on your perspective, and the narrative you choose to to organize your story in. You can look at the horizon, or you can choose to see the railing. You can allow the foamy waves to fill your heart with prospects and opportunities, or you can take in the impossibilities, the constraints.

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Happy Place

12 Oct

porch swing

In the midst of the chaos and uncertainty that are constantly intertwined with my routine, I pop up for a breath of fresh air every now and again, driving to work on one of those rare morning when I’m not racing against the clock, walking to the supermarket on my morning off, closing my eyes and nodding off on a night when I can still remember my name…

And there I am. A year after my divorce. I’ve moved to a little house with a garden, or a small apartment with a balcony, full of plants, green and pink and flowery. Baby isn’t a baby, he’s a lovely three year old boy, who talks and has opinions, and is growing more and more independent. We live alone, with our dog, Barry, and enjoy a routine of daycare, work, afternoons in our backyard, or at the park with Barry, home cooked meals and bedtime stories followed by cuddles and lights out.

BD and I have stayed in good relations, and he spends time with our boy, and gives me my night off, which I use to go out, get laid, paint, blog and do laundry.

There may be a guy in my life, nothing really serious, just someone to make my heart flutter and kiss me on the nights that I don’t have the Boy.

And with this as a background, there I am in my happy place, sitting on a porch swing, looking into the distance, with a cup of tea in my hand. It’s autumn and the evenings are chilly, so a blanket is wrapped around my shoulders to keep me warm. I’ve just checked on the Boy and he’s sound asleep. And I just sit there, in complete quiet and wonder about how everything that happened, him leaving, me crying, getting back together and breaking up and getting back together and going to therapy, and giving up and trying again, and giving up again, how it all led to this beautiful moment, in which I sit, quietly and peacefully and just feel happy.