Policing my Peace

Ever since my early school days I've not been one who asks many questions, yet I have grown adept at answering many.  I have a very good friend who has often asked me - always framing and rephrasing in a diplomatic, honest and curious way - "Aren't you angry?" And I have consistently answered, no.  Another standout question in recent months, although asked only once is, "Can you say, 'He left us'?"

Juxtaposed in the same paragraph these two questions together summon one answer: sadness.  Sadness of the sort that steals my breath away but at the same time makes me think of how it feels when my bare feet sink into the sand while wading in the ocean surf.

It's hard to wrap my mind around why my husband would walk away from me, his three young children and the youngest on his way.  But the question of "Why" isn't really mine to answer.  My choice was whether or not I would let him go.  I mean this figuratively since (yes, I learned the hard way) literally holding on violates the law.  The Dixie Chicks say it best, "It took me a while to understand the beauty in letting go." The beauty is still unfurling.

First, I get to hold my kids; I have a front row seat to their milestones and meltdowns.  I admire all my children for their growing minds and bodies, incredible energy, strength of spirit, laughter, joy and many manifestations of its opposite.  Secondly, I appreciate that I am free to drink a bottle of water and turn on the radio in my car while I drive myself around town.  Last but not least, I have been able to break a nasty habit of Codependence.  I feel like I can breathe deeper and rest easier, as if I am walking on sunnier shores.

To me, this is a good thing.