A sad girl with a cup of tea

Monsters

I want to tell you about our wedding vows.

I want to tell you, but I cannot.

The truth is, I do not remember them.

Mine or his. At least, not in their entirety.

I know I said that I wished for him my entire life. Every birthday candle, every shooting star. The same wish. Him.

I am not sure what to wish for anymore. When the clock strikes 11:11, maybe it is foolish to wish for true love again. Maybe I should have been more specific. True love that lasts.

I know he vowed to look for monsters under the bed. I keep the house locked and a weight against my bedroom door now.

I guess the vows do not really matter anymore, do they?

We did not keep them.

Shame

Sometimes that fact makes me feel guilty. We pledged to love each other forever. We said those words in front of our closest friends and family. We said those words in front of God.

Did you know I have not read the Bible verses about divorce in three years? I am not brave enough. Maybe someday.

Did you know I still cry? It has been three years, but sometimes I still get upset. Something strange will trigger a memory. A cup of hot cocoa that tastes familiar. A song we used to sing together. An old board game hidden in the back of the closet that we used to force our friends to play with us.

Our friends.

Ours.

Things are just mine now. That is interesting. Most of the time, I wish I was sharing my things with someone else.

Did you know we had a plan? We were going to be best friends. We were going to live next door to each other. Close enough that our son could use walkie talkies between the houses. Close enough to have brunch with each other and our new spouses. Close enough to stay in each other’s lives forever. Just like we vowed to.

The plan did not work, but it was a really nice dream, wasn't it?

I go there sometimes. To the houses next to each other. I picture PJ running from door to door, giggling. I picture us joking about his obsession with playing dress up over mugs of coffee. I picture us reminiscing about when he was younger. My ex husband used to put PJ’s favorite stuffed animal in his shirt and run around the kitchen singing "Baby in the Shirt." I still remember the melody. If I am being honest, I hope I never forget it.

Then you blink.

You reorient yourself to reality.

You are not neighbors.

You cannot text him about "Baby in the Shirt."

You are okay.

Shhh. Leave it behind.

You are okay.

I'm sorry

It would be easy to make him a villain, would it not? To play the victim. It would be easier, but it would not be honest.

When we first announced our divorce, a lot of people assumed it was me who pulled the plug. At the time, I did not think much about this. Curious. However, now it pangs my heart. It felt more logical to people that I would end our marriage. How sad.

I must not have been loving him loudly enough.

For that, I'm sorry.

He deserved to be loved out loud. Everyone does.

I never introduced him to Book Boyfriend. I regret that more than anything. A crack in the glass that could not be repaired. I'm sorry.

I told him I would miss him. He said he was surprised.

I'm sorry.

Love. I should have said it more. Beyond that, I should have shown it more.

I'm sorry.

Address to the fire

Some conversations do not need answers to be finished.

I promise though, I loved you. Deeply. It was real. We were happy. That was real.

I did not compliment you enough. I want you to know I think you have really beautiful eyes and a really nice laugh. I want you to know I think you look handsome in sweaters and flannel shirts. I want you to know that when PJ was being born, the one thing I remember more than anything else was you kissing my forehead and rubbing my hair out of my face.

Thank you for bringing love and magic into that moment, when I started panicking and asked the anesthesiologist if I was still breathing. Lol. Silly girl.

You spent a lot of our relationship keeping me calm when I was anxious. Thank you. I had to learn how to do it by myself. It is harder. It requires a lot of Taylor Swift. It also requires writing. Sometimes letters. Letters I will never send to you.

You seem happy. I will not disturb that.

I listened to an old Green Day song the other day. Are you proud of me? I really miss your brothers. My house is so pink. You would hate it. I like it though. I miss the bagel place by your parents’ house. Remember Tortois Chai? Have you been to the sandwich shop lately? The best buffalo chicken subs.

Did you listen to the new Taylor Swift album? Do you think we will ever get the Reputation vault tracks? And for the love of God, what did you think of the Stranger Things finale? I have been dying to talk to you about it.

I have been dying to talk to you.

I have been dying.