At times, it seemed as though we would make it. The dreams of being married and sharing our lives together, raising our children, loving each other. But, somewhere, a thin line was crossed--neither of us knew just where or when--just, something changed. Something so subtle--enough to creep right into our lives, yet so powerful--enough to propel us into entirely different directions.
We felt it, but we turned our heads and diverted our eyes, denied with all our strength, avoided with unwarranted blame. Neither of us knew just how to hold on. And, we squealed and squirmed, yet still refused to look, as fate descended upon us and each of our separate lives traversed two roads.
Nearly eighteen months of separation and divorce has passed. Confusion, sadness, and responsibility has overwhelmed me. My thoughts and direction are off kilter. I do not seem to recognize one day from the next. I am just a body in motion, doing all the things that need to be done.
One quiet evening, my son gives me a big hug, and asks me, "Mom, when is Dad coming home?"