trading places

 

Maybe I needed the time to slowly heal and accept, and then I needed the time after that to celebrate and see the possibilities again. I needed mornings spent sipping coffee, and evenings spent writing thoughts on a page. Filling page after page with smudges and stained thought. Later, I wrote in my journal that I felt “removed, relaxed, a slight sick feeling in my stomach”. I did not cry, I noted proudly, until I was walking through the tunnel from the gate of my past life.

I stood mesmerized, holding the paper (divorce decree) in my hand tightly, the one that held the power to allow me to move on, to get over my delusions of   life. I didn’t know it at the time, but I found peace in that piece of paper, a sense of quiet inner security. Calmness I had never felt, or shared before, until now. There was peace in the ending. That night, I didn’t notice how quiet winter had been, until spring came along. 

These nights, I fall asleep to birds chirping, and this morning, I woke up to more of the same.

A funny sort of quiet has settled over my life. It is the quiet of two very happy people (my second marriage) smiling at each other over steaming cups of coffee. It is the quiet of a corner house at the end of a quiet street. It is the quiet of the chaos being over, and the quiet of peaceful happiness seeping in through floorboards.


It is the quiet of a few plants nearly dying every few weeks and then graciously coming back to life when I remember to water them. Much to my surprise, a certain hand-me-down orchid has been quietly sprouting tendrils right and left despite my careful neglect. It is the quiet of tiny red leaves beginning to open up on the stems of my roses, which will all burst into blossom to new roses in a few weeks.



**We heal at different points, we move on or stay for different reasons, and our needs are uniquely our own. We must own all of these realities and decide for ourselves what is best for each of us in the end.


Quietness is a beautiful thing!