Still, my stomach hurts. Maybe that's the way bitterness leaves the body. Not through skin or lips, but through our intestines. Sitting for a bit and stewing and then snaking its way out. Purging us of life's poison and leaving behind peace.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Seeking Peace and a Cast Iron Stomach
There was a time when I could eat anything. Nowadays, when I think of eating, I ponder idiomatic phrases like "eat my words," "eat your heart out," and slogans like "eat the rich" while I wonder about all the things I should or shouldn't be trying to communicate to Mr. Ex as we endeavor to settle our financial affairs. I have no reason to really trust this man, but I want to enter into an agreement with him that will finally be the end of us. And I am seeing it as the end. The idea of being chained to him forever has left me. We are sooo close to sealing a deal and if that happens, I can almost imagine shaking his hand at our daughters' weddings and graduations without traveling backward through all the grief of the past two years. That handshake will just be a moment in a day on a green lawn striped with folding chairs or in a rustic field by an ocean and far more momentous things will be happening than ex-spouses touching hands. He will have a new baby by then. I'll have my MFA, a new life with a new love and maybe he'll even be at my side.