Needs to be said

 For almost 15 years of my life I was on the inner circle of my ex’s family. And just because we got divorced, does not mean that those people mean any less to me now that I’m on the outside looking in. One of the hardest things about going through a divorce is the fact that when things happen on the other side, you don’t get to be a part of it anymore. That just comes with the deal I guess, but it doesn’t mean I don’t still care. When there’s a marriage, I celebrate it. When there’s a birth, I rejoice in the new life. And when there is loss , it is felt. Deeply. It is mourned, you are mourned and missed. And still loved. And you will be remembered. 

Take Your Bow

 

You fell for her and so did we. Two kids in high school with your heads full of dreams. Years go by of holding hands and stealing kisses. Holidays and romantic trips. You adopted her family for your own and in parallel she does the same, or so we think. She’s another daughter in our little world. 

     Suddenly, one day out of the blue, a letter, typed, not written or even signed announces that she has moved on. No discussion, no choice, as if the whole relationship was just a play she was staged in and now it’s on to the next show. While all the other players are left forgotten on the stage to clean up the mess the prima donna left behind, she doesn’t even look back. She just wipes us all away like a dry erase board and takes her bow. 

     You were looking forward while she was looking back. And at that point you realized that while you’re seeing a future filled with her and everything you two could do, she’s seeing everything she’s missing out on. You tried to lift her up but she blamed you for holding her back. 

      And what she doesn’t see is all the hearts she’s broken, the family that she left with no explanation, and the friendships she betrayed. Erasing everything from that part of her life like she was the only one  feeling. Making us disappear cancels out her hurt. She puts up a wall while the rest of us are on the other side holding memories up to the sun to see if any of it was real. A broken kaleidoscope of colored glass that no longer forms a pattern. Scrolling through photos of dressed up smiles and feeling robbed of all the time that could have been spent on someone with genuine feelings rather than a lie in a pretty face. 

      How easy it must be for you to burn your bridges and walk away, while the rest of us turn to ash in your wake. You thought you were messing with a family of pigeons, but we represent a legacy of phoenixes. And we are not staying down. 

Swing in Fog

 Still. The swing sits enshrouded by fog, alone. 

There once was a time the boy swung. There once was a time he played on it. Before his energy waned, and his muscles shrunk, he ran across the playground to sit on that swing. He laughed, he smiled, he flew. And now, the swing is still and the boy is gone.