Saturday morning. Slept late.
Needed those
hours of healing. Early
afternoon, step out to get my two-dollar breakfast at my favorite Arab
bodega. Four police vehicles are in
front of my building. Two are vans. I guess I’m not the most miserable person in
the building. When I return with my
coffee and piece of pound cake, the cops – some plain-clothed, some in uniform
– are going in and out of the building.
Three neighbors out front, one of whom speaks English, are talking in
Spanish. I ask the one who understands
me what happened. “I don’t know,” he
says, “I just got here.”
I go home to my own
troubles. Can’t say I’m not curious
about what’s going on though. I don’t
wish tragedy on anyone, however, I have to admit that I’m grateful this one isn’t
mine.
In my life, I’d been
bullied, and I’d been mugged more than once.
Though
it felt terrifying, they were strangers and it wasn’t personal. But when an ex prefers me dead rather than
alive and free, that hurts way worse.
Especially when it is voiced through his sons who had no reason of their
own to feel that way. Their father had emailed
me shortly after we parted that he was lucky to have been loved by the most
humane person he ever knew. His sons don’t
know that; they are the carriers of his rage.
I don’t think they know that either.
Betrayal by those I
have given years of time, energy, and deep love to is
why I stay out of
relationships (of the romantic kind) now.
I’m not saying I’m never tempted, but it just doesn’t seem worth
it. Too risky. I need my energy (whatever’s left). And I’d like to live (“selfish bitch” that I
am).
After having my
breakfast, I take out two bags of garbage which means
having to go outside and
into the alley (a place I was firmly warned to stay out of all through growing
up). The police vehicles are gone. No neighbors outside. I don’t know what the scene was all
about. Maybe, today, I am better off not
knowing. Some days are like this.
11/4/2017
Ah life. Sometimes best to be grateful, whatever we are served up . . .
Whoa. Your thoughts were fluid here. I wadded in your experience. I don’t know how to discribe it...wadding in the middle of a ripple-less lake as the sun sets...
Thank you for reading and commenting. I almost didn't post this. Now I'm glad I did.
I can only wish you hope and reapproachment with your son. Peace.
Thank you, David.