Ups...moving into new apartment. Lots of light, beautiful refinished floors. Unpacked my tea kettle, sipped a mug of chamomile while staring out the window at the little crack of harbor view I can make out above the tree line. Nice.
Downs...moving into new apartment. Our stuff, all around me. What to do with this stuff?
I had moved it all into storage the week before we let go of our town house...when H. had insisted on separation but not packed a single solitary thing two days before we had agreed to be out. I divided out sheets, pots and pans, etc., into two piles. Take to storage. Leave for him. God, it pains me to think of the way I couldn't even cheat him on the counts. Even down to dish towels, even steven. Whatever.
So now our storage unit contents is being delivered to my new apartment. Small load arrived today, rest will come next week. Saw a tupperware bin with wedding pictures and photo albums...eeek, straight back to the pile for storage.
And then, the unavoidable, painful trip to Target. Here's me, zombie walking up and down the aisles, contemplating the fact that our separation/divorce is fueling the struggling economy,feeling utterly beaten by the sadness of this whole thing, trying to avoid any obvious painful triggers. The couples filling out their wedding registries actually don't bother me (too obvious), nor the expecting parents, pricing car seats (saw the one we had bought, then returned) nor the PDA couples holding hands and smooching in the check out line.
Its the the couple in the kitchen aisle looking for the right spatula, apparently for their Saturday morning pancake ritual. Their playful teasing and easy comfort radiating "I'm happiest right here, right now, with my best friend" sends me over the edge. I pay, leave, and then bawl in my car for a good ten minutes before I can manage to get it under control and start the ignition.
I drive "home" in the rain, thinking to myself- He better be marvelously, insanely, stupidly happy. To throw what we had away, to walk on and discount our Saturday morning ritual...the trip to the farmers market and then home to make fried egg and tomato sandwiches, with the baseball game playing in the background on the radio... F. him. It better be freakin amazing.
Me 30 H 33 together:10 years married:5 years Separated: 1/23/09 living apart 5 mos and counting "when you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on"-FDR
