-Miles to go before I sleep

Tuesday, May. 24, 2011-2:10 am
Miles to go before I sleep

Like the smell of rain before the storm began , implying a lot more than could be seen, she heard an impatient tone in his voice when she called and told him that she had taken a wrong turn coming home from the party and would be late.

The anticipation of an uncomfortable situation started fear circuitry in her brain, making her get even further lost. The GPS didn't have a signal . In a hyperventillating panic she drove for a long time ,alone, feeling absolutely bewildered. As she eventually got back to familiar roads that would lead her home, she was unaware that 15 minutes ago, he had driven away in a rage, making choices that were to have an eternal mark.

She called him back when she got closer to home, to tell him she would see him in a few minutes. His anger welled up from a dark place. It didn't start soft and make its way upwards. It was unexpected, strong, loud ,explosive. A cry escaped her lips and her free hand shot up to cover her mouth, for fear of breaking down into relentless sobbing.

All she heard was his rage , his sarcasm , peeling through the air as though there were no pained soul on the phone, no wreck of a woman wishing only to be understood . He was yelling at her, his words were deliberate and intentionally cruel, but his words whispered something else much darker. Explosions can be destructive and disturbing. Sometimes, though, destruction is necessary, like when lightening strikes the forest. The fire clears away the underbrush that chokes and stifles new growth. It lets in the sun and fresh air and can be a brilliant fresh start. Not this time..

Her world caved in. All that they had together for the last 6 years , every hope or dream was now meaningless It was gone in a moment and replaced by the only truth which was left: He did not care at all. He only cared about himself and his need to support all his distorted ideas about her. She could only wonder if he would ever regret what he had done , or know how he had changed things irrevocably.

Every carefully composed word she said to him the next morning was insignificant to him. Every cruel word he said was his weapon of choice in a battle of wills. She took a deep breath, exhaling her desperation and frustration.. . He was no longer the man she loved, but had transmogrified into the Tin Man who did not have a heart, a disloyal , childish , loveless being. She make this observation with all the detached acceptance of anyone who knows the pain of a beautiful dream that had to end.

She had a glass of wine at 3 PM and then fell asleep on the bed. When she woke up , there was still some light . She could see the tops of the trees from that angle on the bed, out the window. Dark green leaves outlined against the gray overcast of the oncoming evening. She got up and went outside in the dark and let the mist fall on her face.and felt a wonder at the great, dark expanse of the night that had somehow slipped inside her body, and had become a part of her. She was discovering something:the grandeur waiting in the empty heart of the world, and its capacity to render her insignificant, and alone with it.

She knows that she may have to leave him behind. There would be no happily ever after, but instead a perpetual absence. She knew she would have to try to get over him . Except it is not a matter of ever getting over him. She was a different person than the person she was before she loved him. He changed her in ways she will always value and hope to hold onto the rest of her life. He'll always be a part of her life. They had a kind of sharing and intensity that only happens once in a lifetime with one person.

It was not conventional, is was not one of those sealed, celebrated and state-sanctioned alliances . It was a commitment of pure intent, a commitment of the heart that was as sincere and meaningful as any other. She had a recognition that despite his tragic flaw of his trust issues he was a good man. She would do it again if she had the chance, even knowing how painfully it had ended. He had left an imprint in her psyche; some sort of eternal mark which she will always know him by.

She would keep trying , knowing better than he did, that some things that are broken, like broken connections, broken skin and broken hearts, aren't as bad as they seem.

She remembered a poem she had heard, a memory from her youth, something that had become rare as the years went on. A line appeared in her mind, "...But I have promises to keep." She did have promises to keep. She had a commitment. She wasn't turning her back on him now. Not ever.

And miles to go before I sleep...,

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