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Saturday, July 2, 2016

Growing Things

My eldest has turned eleven. He is a rare creature, so sweet, so sensitive, his light shines through easily, and though he has been clouded by the separation of his parents, he is shining still.  He has always carried his Light lightly, and it is remarkable, and so he is.  Eleven. Elven.

There was a family party, complete with his dad shooting hoops and all his surviving grandparents, and even a visiting cousin.  It was 'normal' for the new time.  I think it was a bit overwhelming for me, watching what is still technically my husband shooting hoops and playing with my kids exactly as would have occurred a year ago. But now I look at his body that is so familiar and yet cannot help but dwell on how he is loving someone else with that whole body. Internal, external. It is so surreal, so much of a stranger.

It brings forth a wild understanding, tree trunk gnarled, that while he is so familiar, there is little I know about him anymore. I like not knowing, honestly, as so much of it I was tired of hearing, and am tired of hearing, and would love to never sit through again. But there are things that I have forgotten, that are probably good things, like how he uses his poetry in riddles for the kids to suss meaning from wordplay.

He is finally learning how to take responsibility for the kids, all three at once, as he has now had opportunity these six months. It was not something he understood when he lived here. Maybe that was on me, but I think it the natural division of labor, gone wrong. But now he knows, and watching the relationships of the children with him, shift because of it, is another growing thing. They, and I, have more trust in him.  A sapling, perhaps.

It is mildly interesting to notice my twist, a man that I used to know, internal external, and do not want to know anymore, and what happens when there is an outside force. Realizing what a bad husband and partner he was for me, and still having the twist is sharp sometimes. I don't judge myself too harshly for it, as I don't take action beyond my inner world and we have all seen much much worse. I take comfort that I am not slashing tires, or making angry gestures to the world.  I would wish myself more immune, but I can vaguely sense it coming, this flat immunity. Again, I don't know what it will look like.  But there is something bright at the end of this tunnel, something bright.  Fools's gold? Chrome in a diner? Diamonds? Prisms? Sunlight in the morning? Brightness, and I'll take it in whatever form it arrives.

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