Anniversaries and contemplations
I have been surfing through a few favourite blogs this afternoon (including those listed at right), as well as random ones via the blog arrow in the top right-hand corner. Quite a few have posted blogs with musings on the anniversary of the twin towers. I must admit that at this time of year, my thoughts do not tend towards that episode of recent history. I had no real personal connection with the tragedy that befell New York and as such, can only have limited empathy.
In contrast, my thoughts from early September to early October are far more personal. I contemplate my ex-husband (Pubes from previous posts)and the demise of my marriage. It was at this time five years ago, just prior to our wedding anniversary, he left me.
I was showing B some photos last night from days of old and happened upon photos of me and Pubes in happier times (well, at least I was). And it felt wrong. It felt wrong to be sitting there with photos of the most significant relationship of my life, a man who hurt me beyond my comprehension, with B leaning in close listening attentively. B was physically close, but my mind was many miles (and years) away.
I thought of the way that I was once loved, and the promises made for everlasting love. I remembered the pain, and the thought of never being touched by him again. I yearned for the way he would call to me, and the way that we would know what each other was thinking. I remembered our very first kiss, and struggled with the memory of our last.
But as time has passed, I can now also remember other things. The way that I could never stand sleeping in his arms, and now I feel the most comfortable with B's arms around me at night. I recall the insecurities that I felt, whether due to him, or me, it no longer matters. I think of those times, and don't like myself that much. I remember the self-doubt I had. I can reminisce on the fact that before Pubes and after Pubes, I have lived so much more life and achieved so much more personal growth than in the time with him.
I think I must have stopped talking and just sat holding the photos in my hands, when B asked if I wanted a cup of tea. I looked at him, nodded, and packed away the photos (and the melancholy) until another time.