Finding Forty, Day 159; Mary Poppins

Day 3 in the new digs.  I can't tell you how wonderful and peaceful this new place is.  My co worker is single and busy and always gone.  I feel, so far, like I live here alone.

One of the routines I've begun establishing is to go  everyday after work to visit with the boys.  So far, it's been averaging 2 hours a day, roughly from 4 to 6.   Not really enough time, but better than nothing.

The problem is that being in the house hurts.  The smells, the clutter, the spaces we shared.   Even the dust bunnies seem to tug at my heartstrings.   And yet, I can't be away from the kids.   Unfortunately, I guess, I've not been able to leave until after A gets home, or just as he's arriving.  That is a huge hurdle, a tremendous ache.   I cry every time I leave and want to make a u-turn and drive home.   Sometimes I know that is where I am supposed and meant to be.   But the further I drive away, the more peace I feel.  There is a spark of excitement coursing through me and I can't deny it.

It's very hard.   I miss the boys.  As crazy as they drove me, at least they were there.   I miss their sweaty heads, the curve of my littlest one's booty in his tighty whitey's, the annoying, silly stories they'd tell me about shows they'd watched.

Last night they stayed with me here and it went really well.  I remember after my mom and dad were separated and I was in college, my sister and I had Christmas dinner with my dad in a Burger King.  It was pitiful and sad, but we soldiered through our Whoppers with cheese and choked down our Diet Cokes and extra salty fries.  I am not sure I ever felt more sorry for him in my life.    Well, okay, I have.  I mean, it is my dad we're talking about.   But still, it was a very painful moment.

I don't want my boys to have those.  For almost two years now, I've struggled on some days through a marriage that was "less than" in order for them to not know Burger King.

Last night, my younger two and I ate take out Whataburger on a piece of cardboard in the upstairs room I am renting from my friend.    We could have eaten at the dining room table, but there was something adventurous about sitting around a flattened t.v. box eating apple slices and burgers.   Actually, there's probably not, but the farther I get in the journey, the more I realize it's all about perception.

We are strong!  We are resilient!  We will all be okay!  

I do believe those things.  

Especially as long as I stay busy and away from A and the house.

I pray for clarity.  I hope for it to magically arrive at my feet, much like a Christmas package or a brown, wrapped box delivered by a hottie in a big van.    If I were Mary Poppins, I could pull clarity right out of my tapestry bag or pour it onto an oversized spoon and swallow it down.

But I'm smart enough to know it doesn't work that way.

I will just try to be.   Be.  And clarity will find me.   At some point, she'll breeze past me and I'll feel her wisps.

Day three.   Not bad.   Wonder how I'll be at Day 30?

Hopefully, stronger than ever.