Between the Lines

I don’t need you, I want you. I want to choose you every second, every day for the rest of my life. I want to hear your heart speaking to me, easing my fears, “you’re home you’re home you’re home,” every beat a reminder of the journey it took to get back into your arms.

I’m untethered here. I can’t scoop the contents of my heart up fast enough before they float away. The moment my head rest in the hollow of your neck, everything fell back into place; a magnet recentering and shifting all I am back into place. I don’t know how to live like this. 

Please tell me your limbs are loose and wobbly too, like the tendons holding you together need tightening. Like the string that’s running between us is slack and the only fix is to fit our hearts back together tying them tight with the loose ends.

Everything here suddenly feels pointless. I have a job to do, I have bills and debt to pay off. I have children to shuffle between friends, school, other extracurriculars… I need timelines, goals… I need structure and stability, but the foundation here is slowly crumbling with every remembrance of how your hold on me would calm my nervous system, stroking and untangling the knots in my mind.

Tell me what’s on the tip of your tongue, reveal what your heart left between the lines every time you rationalized your thoughts hinting at vague points in the future. Tell me or break my heart for good this time. Stop apologizing and make it right. Stop dropping breadcrumbs and feed me the whole truth of your heart, don’t hide from me and don’t hold back out of fear of losing me again. If you can’t say it with your words, hold me and let our hearts speak. “You’re home you’re home you’re home.”

Happy Birthday

The problem with having a super sensory dense memory is that I can still feel you under my hands. I can still taste your skin and smell the citrusy earthy scent of your soap of your youth.

I can’t wait to re-explore you, like driving a backroad that’s been since paved in the 20 years you’ve been gone. You know the curves, where the potholes and blemishes should be. You know how the sun hits in the early evening but now the trees are taller and have filled out with their adult limbs and fuller leaves and colors. 

I can see the “you” I remember from then and I’m so excited to retrace the paths of this older you. 

The grass is only greener where it’s been watered.

 I have spent the majority of our timeline supporting you. Supporting your dreams, supporting your habits, supporting you mentally, emotionally, physically and financially. 

As children came into our lives I shifted my focus on supporting them. I shifted funds, asked for help, drained what little retirement I had to make sure they were financially covered. It didn’t just cost me money, but also mentally. It robbed a lot of time I could have spent enjoying them and being a positive presence in their lives and instead presented them with a mom who was so stressed out and stretched thin that THAT is who they remember when they think of the time we all lived under one roof.

The mother they have now, they weren’t allowed to have then and that breaks me. Meanwhile to them, you’ve been living your best life for nobody but yourself and as much as I want to shelter them from that, they’ve reached an age where they can see your mugshot, look you up on social media, hear second hand about your life from those you surrounded yourself by. People who weren’t them.

You came out of that “situation” last year looking to make amends, to be “better” for them and yourself. I sucked up my pride for the “big picture” and at times begged you to just be present. The times you did show up, you all but squealed tires leaving.

If you want to relocate, to go wherever the wind takes you, fine. Do it. But don’t drag them down on your way out. Don’t leave them wanting more and then dip out. They didn’t ask to be here. They didn’t put in a special request to have us as parents, but we wanted THEM. We owe it to them to support them in every way imaginable and I’ve been covering the tab for both of us this entire time. When do I get to say “enough?” Where is the line you have to cross for me to get legal involved again? Who will bail you out then?

The amount of child support you pay for three children is the average amount for one in this state. I know because I see it first hand when mom’s come in to lease with me. I don’t hold you responsible for their healthcare. I don’t hold you accountable for the holidays or time you’re supposed to be spending with them and you find excuses to not follow through.

We have 18 summers with each child. 18. Why aren’t you making that a priority? Why aren’t you running towards them like the house is on fire and you’re the only able bodied adult who can save them? I often feel so sorry for you that you don’t get to experience this love, this absolute joy that is simply being with our kids as often as I get to be in their presence.

As a former child of an absent parent, my heart breaks more for them because I never wanted this for them and if you’d asked me 20 years ago if I felt you could ever do the same to our kids I would have fallen over dead if I knew then what I know now.

What would have happened if my father didn’t die right before the oldest needed oral surgery? What if the property never sold before another needed braces? Maybe I manifested the timing without knowing. What I wouldn’t give to have 10 minutes with my father to just hold him, despite our rocky relationship. I still just want my dad back. Will our children feel the same when you’re gone for good?