Stranger To Me

There are times when she wasn’t sure what to do anymore. Her children were grown and visited her less and less. They listened to anything she had to say with distressingly less regularity. Her husband had grown distant, only coming to see her maybe once or twice a month. During months that held anniversaries like their marriage or one of their birthdays, she’d see him a third time, but no more during any of their children’s or grandchildren’s birthdays. She didn’t even see him at night anymore as he had started sleeping in a separate room, something that had been unthinkable until just four years ago.

She wasn’t even certain of when it started happening. He’d been working longer, but only one night every now and then at first. It had slowly grown from once a month to maybe three or four times a month and then several times a week.

Then, one day, she woke up and realized that her husband hadn’t shared her bed, not even just for sleeping, in over a year.

Then she realized that not only did she wake up to his side of the bed cold and untouched but she didn’t even get to see his face during the day, never mind getting to see him smile.

She was a stranger to the man that she’d pledged her everything to and he was a stranger to her.

“How did it come to this, my dear?” she whispered into his pillow from where it was pressed into her face.

It had long since stopped smelling liking him.


Lost Love?

Some say it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Others say that only fools say this, because they do not understand the gaping void left in the wake of lost love.

For me, it is different as I imagine that it’s different for every person and every situation. I have not so much lost love as come to an understanding that it was time for us to part. He had the same realizations. I will always treasure the time that we had together, but it was time to move forward for both of us, and that forward motion did not run parallel for us. There are times when I feel the missing piece of myself, but at the same time I know that going back would not help. Memories are there to help you be who you are, but they are only as powerful as you let them be.

 Choices are the hinges of destiny. -Pythagoras

Though this does not always feel like its true, it is for me. But I am just one person who has had one relationship like this. I have lost the closeness of others: friends, family, pets; not always because our paths separate, but because of death as well. The reasons are always different, even when they are the same, because each person who has left me or who I have left is different.

But there will always be things that I remember…

The first time he walked me to the library.

The first time I walked him to the bus stop and waited with him for his bus.

The first time we held hands.

Every time we hugged before we parted.

The first time we kissed. (Which, despite popular belief, was something that I actually initiated. A thing which surprised me just as much as it did him.)

The first time he came to visit me when I was sick.

The first time we realized neither of us knew when our anniversary was so we just picked one and went with it.

When I realized that he was one of the few that I didn’t instinctively flinch away from when he rested a hand on my shoulder or neck.

When I realized that I felt safe in his presence no matter how tired or sick or lost I felt.

Honestly there are too many things to remember and write down that if I wrote them all I would never finish this post. Or, if I did this post would take far longer to compose than it has already. (Hint: I started writing this several months ago.)

The point is not that I have loved or that I have lost…

The point, gentlemen, is that they lived. -from the movie “Ever After”

Written originally for myself, but finished for yesterday’s FreeWriteFriday prompt as well as for myself:

Once We Were Different

When did it all change? When did it become so complicated? Once it was an honor and now it is a shame. We are no longer who we are; we’re now the same.

Written for this week’s Trifectra challenge:

I wasn’t sure what I was going to write about and then this just happened. shrugs I write what I write.