January. I had just come back from a second run to California three days before. My mother was dying and these trips were mandatory and inevitable. A third trip was in the future, looming, but the date was still unknown to me. I was in my car, waiting under the pine by the bus station. Kitsap Transit has a transfer station off of the corner of Wheaton and Sylvan Way. Convenient for shopping, close to the library.
That was the kicker. Close to the library.
Our relationship was long gone by then. We weathered the most incredible storms that fall and early winter. We battled the estrangement, the counselors, the passive aggressive spouses. We dealt with your god, your choices, my wearying displays of emotion and incredibly stupid responses to standard human melodramas. That morning I felt like I had washed up on the shore of a strange island, with the flotsum and jetsam of our dealings still washing around in my heart like wreckage from a storm. I had no idea if I would see you. And frankly, I didn't care. Being there was enough.
I knew that you would, at some point, cross my path. The girls were up the street at a Christian school, easy to get to when you subbed. You finally bailed out of homeschooling and at that same time were embarking in a life without me, which made that new schooling arrangement a life saver. We were both a mess, making mistakes, making promises and you, for what it is worth, was the better of the two of us. In all outward appearances you had it together. The Detective watched your every move and in order to get off his radar all forms of communication were left wide open and were monitored 24/7. You gave up every form and semblance of privacy in order to keep the peace. All your thoughts, feelings and actions were open to scrutiny. I was amazed outrageous breach of privacy but then again I knew you all too well. You were the tougher of the two of us, and had much higher stakes to lose. Or so you imagined. When it came to all that we were dealing with I just held my mud, but you, my dear, you built adobe houses out of it.
So, I waited. The minutes rolled on. I had no reason to be there. My kids were shuttled off to school long ago. Work would not start until noon. My estranged one had no power over me or leash on my movements but I was monitored all the same. I had been home for only a couple weeks when I found a long letter from you in my email box. I left you a note earlier letting you know that I had arrived home safely, and for that you were glad. But the letter was more of your life, what had gone down that holiday season, how you weathered the wind and snow storms we suffered that fall, all of that. But it was that final line that had me out there. You summed up your letter with words to this affect "If I had known it would be this hard, I wonder, would I done it?"
What could I to do but ask and find out.
There have been many days that I've come and gone away from that corner empty handed. It was close to nine and I needed to go. With two minutes to spare your silver Focus raced up the hill, you saw me and pulled into the parking lot. Cold, wet morning, and unlike other times you parked and stepped out of your car. You came up to me and gave me a hug, hung there for a moment and took a good whiff of the leather jacket I was wearing. I had only found it a week or two before, but it was well traveled in and was now mine all over.
For what it is worth, there was only one thing that I remember for certain from that stop. Sure, I gave you rocks and some memorabilia that I had found for you. We chatted about the road and your girls and my kids. We sized up our situation and knew it was baked, regardless of how we felt about each other. There was just no going back, and that was that.
But it was your words to me as you piled out of the car that I will always remember. I never had time to ask you anything. I never had a chance to ask you about your letter, your final statement, nothing. You just looked at me and said:
"I would do it all over again". Not just once, but twice.
What more needed to be said than that?
Fast forward to today. I was in the reception area of a dentist's office, waiting for The Boy to finish up with his checkup. I sat there, watched life go by and listened to maudlin music and knew that I had get up and step outside. I thought about sitting in my car and fiddled around with my pockets feeling for my keys when I came across a tin of mints. It may seem strange but I know that they were there in my coat pocket that morning. I know because we shared one before you left. Maybe it is a new tin. Maybe it's just a false memory. Maybe I was thinking of other times, but I know that it was the same jacket.
Finding that tin made me think of you, that morning we shared in the rain. It made me flash really hard back to a time that was harder than about any other time I have ever lived through. I tasted the soft brightness of that mint in my mouth and thought of you, of sharing those mints on a Gig Harbor pier on a cold February night, but more than that I thought about how you clutched me in that jacket, took a deep whiff, took a hard ride down some olafactory memories of your own. M, what I would give to have it happen all over again.
But, you know, it was enough, my dear, to stand there and suck on that mint and know that you would do it all over again. Yes, M, I would, too.
Your WHMB
That was the kicker. Close to the library.
Our relationship was long gone by then. We weathered the most incredible storms that fall and early winter. We battled the estrangement, the counselors, the passive aggressive spouses. We dealt with your god, your choices, my wearying displays of emotion and incredibly stupid responses to standard human melodramas. That morning I felt like I had washed up on the shore of a strange island, with the flotsum and jetsam of our dealings still washing around in my heart like wreckage from a storm. I had no idea if I would see you. And frankly, I didn't care. Being there was enough.
I knew that you would, at some point, cross my path. The girls were up the street at a Christian school, easy to get to when you subbed. You finally bailed out of homeschooling and at that same time were embarking in a life without me, which made that new schooling arrangement a life saver. We were both a mess, making mistakes, making promises and you, for what it is worth, was the better of the two of us. In all outward appearances you had it together. The Detective watched your every move and in order to get off his radar all forms of communication were left wide open and were monitored 24/7. You gave up every form and semblance of privacy in order to keep the peace. All your thoughts, feelings and actions were open to scrutiny. I was amazed outrageous breach of privacy but then again I knew you all too well. You were the tougher of the two of us, and had much higher stakes to lose. Or so you imagined. When it came to all that we were dealing with I just held my mud, but you, my dear, you built adobe houses out of it.
So, I waited. The minutes rolled on. I had no reason to be there. My kids were shuttled off to school long ago. Work would not start until noon. My estranged one had no power over me or leash on my movements but I was monitored all the same. I had been home for only a couple weeks when I found a long letter from you in my email box. I left you a note earlier letting you know that I had arrived home safely, and for that you were glad. But the letter was more of your life, what had gone down that holiday season, how you weathered the wind and snow storms we suffered that fall, all of that. But it was that final line that had me out there. You summed up your letter with words to this affect "If I had known it would be this hard, I wonder, would I done it?"
What could I to do but ask and find out.
There have been many days that I've come and gone away from that corner empty handed. It was close to nine and I needed to go. With two minutes to spare your silver Focus raced up the hill, you saw me and pulled into the parking lot. Cold, wet morning, and unlike other times you parked and stepped out of your car. You came up to me and gave me a hug, hung there for a moment and took a good whiff of the leather jacket I was wearing. I had only found it a week or two before, but it was well traveled in and was now mine all over.
For what it is worth, there was only one thing that I remember for certain from that stop. Sure, I gave you rocks and some memorabilia that I had found for you. We chatted about the road and your girls and my kids. We sized up our situation and knew it was baked, regardless of how we felt about each other. There was just no going back, and that was that.
But it was your words to me as you piled out of the car that I will always remember. I never had time to ask you anything. I never had a chance to ask you about your letter, your final statement, nothing. You just looked at me and said:
"I would do it all over again". Not just once, but twice.
What more needed to be said than that?
Fast forward to today. I was in the reception area of a dentist's office, waiting for The Boy to finish up with his checkup. I sat there, watched life go by and listened to maudlin music and knew that I had get up and step outside. I thought about sitting in my car and fiddled around with my pockets feeling for my keys when I came across a tin of mints. It may seem strange but I know that they were there in my coat pocket that morning. I know because we shared one before you left. Maybe it is a new tin. Maybe it's just a false memory. Maybe I was thinking of other times, but I know that it was the same jacket.
Finding that tin made me think of you, that morning we shared in the rain. It made me flash really hard back to a time that was harder than about any other time I have ever lived through. I tasted the soft brightness of that mint in my mouth and thought of you, of sharing those mints on a Gig Harbor pier on a cold February night, but more than that I thought about how you clutched me in that jacket, took a deep whiff, took a hard ride down some olafactory memories of your own. M, what I would give to have it happen all over again.
But, you know, it was enough, my dear, to stand there and suck on that mint and know that you would do it all over again. Yes, M, I would, too.
Your WHMB
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