Heart

Timing

Added 2022-05-13 15:51:50 +0000 UTC

It’s strange how things work out.

Sunday night there was an offhand comment.

By Monday it had sprouted and overgrown.

It was all that survived by the morning.

She held me and said “I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much, and I’m hurting you.”

I cried.

She was right.

“I’ve never been loved the way that you love me,” tears streamed down both of our faces. “It changed my whole life.”

It was an unexpected ending, yet clear from the very start.

I stepped out into the sunlight and my heart sunk.

The yellow tulip she’d brought me from her garden opened today. Perfectly poignant in it’s reminder of the promises she kept, and the plans we made.

What now?

Autopilot and tissues shoved into my pockets because the tears won’t stop. Pick up the kids, make dinner, burn dinner, cry about dinner, make dinner again.

Monday night my phone lights up.

“I’m so sorry. I regretted those words the second they left my mouth,” she’s gutted and she’s scrambling to explain how shift work and no sleep mean her head isn’t right.

“Come over,” I reply.

She crawls in bed next to me.

We don’t talk.

We just rest our tired bodies and puffy eyes, our heads touching on the same pillow.

I dream that we make amends.

Tuesday morning there are lots of words.

“But you were right, it hurts too much.”

“But I’m not ready to throw in the towel, I’m not ready to let you go.”

The writing is on the wall but there’s so much good here. How long do we hang on?

Last year violets grew all over her lawn, a sweet sapphic omen. I dug some up and planted them in mine. I thought they didn’t take, there was no sign of them this Spring.

Tuesday afternoon when I stepped outside and put my feet in the grass I noticed a single solitary violet, standing proud facing the sun.

Tenacious.