The tug in my belly. The tears beginning, the disbelief.  How could this be happening? Why? I want this. I hate this! I want a different life. I’m free, finally free! NO! STOP! Do what I want, what I say!  Why, how, could you do this? Love someone else, want to be with her, hurt our love?  What of our love? What of me? What of our children? I hate you! I want nothing to do with you! I want you – completely. Don’t do this! Chose me. Chose me. Chose me!

I remember a night, screaming.  Throwing out into the rain that brown suede jacket, take that you bastard, and leaving. It was after the push – one push – one push too hard. Hitting the floor, feeling the pain of a rib. Nursing the pain, nursing all the hurt, nursing myself out the door, into the truck. Driving to a friend’s house. Asking the next morning what you told the children. I told them you were mad at her, you said. Bullshit! Bullshit, I tell you. Bullshit. That’s all.

Now, years later, the tug in my belly is gone, a pulsing heat in its stead. Passion replaces blaming rage. It took time to know the Universe was behind me all the way, that the rays of the sun still shone on my corner, and drew me forward, the earth pulling my roots to places beyond, deeper than the oak outside my house, that a chapter I wanted to write began that night. A life more true, my own. Not so reliant, dependent. No more following a script we both had bought. Thank you. Now I remember  - I always love you  –  always.   

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