I sigh deeply, from the depths not only my chest, but my soul. I resign myself to the fact that I will be stuck in this house out in the country until he returns with our four grandsons.
The pendulum swings wide.
Joy for the exuberant energy of four filling these emotionally dead rooms bringing them to life, and then the quick swing back to sullen silence as I maneuver over the egg shells.
The phone rings. My daughter is upset and even more so when she discovers I answer. Not the number she wanted to dial. My whole body tightens as I hear her fiery anger through the line. The whole torrid episode told in hot words as popcorn pops. He threw the jars in the back of truck. They broke. Pissed him off even more. “Jump out”, she yelled at the four. Protecting her young from his anger. He tried to run me over!
Mom there is NO way I letting my sons come to the house today.
Again, the pendulum swings hard and far as the very life is sucked out of my being, I’m being denied the joy of my grandsons due to him.
I wait.
My body in such agony from the tightness. My mind racing and yet numb. Thoughts swirling like huge snowflakes in a blizzard. Piling up in the frozen snowbanks of knowing.
He arrives bringing with him his well-crafted story. How innocent he was. This time I know the truth. I do not disassociate. I allow myself to see it. To see the reality of it all. To let it sink into my core.
And I feel the physical crack in my chest.
The crack that will grow into a grand canyon.