When I was a little girl I was filled with hope and laughter. Everyday seemed endless, with hundreds of opportunities. I would run barefoot on the worn path between my house and my grandmother’s. She would always welcome me with open arms full of tight hugs. We would make biscuits and pies and other concoctions from the cook books she had. We would sew, she taught me how to cross stitch and she gave me a butterfly to cross stitch for mama for mother’s day.
I would plant flowers with her and weed through the garden. We’d hang clothes on the clothes line and I would just be mesmerized by the way the rays of the sun filtered through the bed sheets and how they would blow up with one swoosh, into the air. It was like someone was putting on a show for me and the wind would push me and twirl me as I weaved through the blowing, magical sheets. I became the star of the show and when the wind would calm, the audience would stand to applause. I would curtsy and then skip away behind Grandma, to see what else we would be creating. I would never be disappointed. Even on slow days, I could just lie on my back in there cool, green grass and watch the big fluffy clouds make pictures in the sky, an elephant, a giant ear, 3 little pigs and more. I’d close my eyes and think of the family I’d have one day. I see them all laughing. My beloved husband standing behind me so proud, arms around my waist, taking claim of me like someone else might steal his most precious catch. Loving me and treating me as if I was a present, lifting me up, complimenting me, making me feel valued. Our children running around, playing tag, laughing hysterically when someone got tagged. It was a beautiful dream. I remember being so excited to have that family one day.
I have a family. It’s mostly the one I dream of (glass 1/2 full). The part that is not my dream is the part where my DH and I are a team. Where we truly love each other and we work together to raise our children and run our household and life! Instead I have a husband who cheats, lies, runs, returns, runs again and leaves my kitchen bowl filled with questions that aren’t blending up to make anything but a tasteless mess, a flag cake, just a flopped combination.
Where did I go wrong.
Why didn’t I trust my gut 12 years ago when I felt something was “off” when I got flowers all the time, when he’d just stop by to see me or when he wanted to see me everyday. Something was off but I tried to ignore it…..I’m glad I did because of my babies but I wish I’d heard it a little because this man is now their father. He is failing. He is disappearing . He isn’t answering the questions they ask. He runs.