There’s a house a few miles down the road.

A year ago, I put all my hopes and all my dreams and every damn burden I could carry into that borrowed house.

3 weeks after I unpacked all our baggage, I came home on a Thursday night, sat down at the kitchen table, and gave him choices.

Stay and get help, I said. Or pack a bag and leave, I said.

We know what he chose. For better or worse, we know the story ended.

My heart aches for the choice he didn’t choose. My heart aches for the dreams that evaporated into the thin air on that Thursday night right before baseball practice.

That borrowed house was never meant to carry our burdens, our hopes, my dreams. It wasn’t big enough to contain our baggage, our dirty laundry…

Exaclty a year after that God-forsaken Thursday night, God showed up-
It was the evening before Easter, and I was standing with a childhood friend as she promised to build a life of dreams with the man she loved.

God was there, He was always there. As the significance of the weekend sunk in, my heart healed a tiny bit more… He started to mend my broken heart with a weekend of resurrection and wholeness.

I packed up his favorite coffee mug- the one with the gold rim and the LSU logo on the side, the last of his things- the other day.
I’d scoff when he’d fill it to the brim with black coffee and offer me a sip…but then he’d deploy and it’d be the only mug I pulled out of the cabinet. I can see our kitchen, the one with the windows overlooking the village- the sun stretching up and struggling to wake- I can see him standing there near the coffee pot, in sweat pants… a freshly shaved head, and his back still wet from a shower… I’d wrap my arms around him and he’d lean into me…
There are all these moments, memories that flood back to me. I shove them back down inside of me, because I don’t know where else they go. They can’t go here on paper and they can’t be discussed; and so, I push them back down deep within me. I wonder where they hide and I fear when they’ll surface again…

I hesitate to get too honest here.
I loved him. I love him.
And I know, deep down, divorcing him was the right choice.
I’m not stuck in the past. But I’m not exactly feeling forward momentum either…
For the moment, I feel the need to just stand still and let the world buzz on around me.
I want to just stand here until my feet root themselves in the clay- until I’m steady enough, confident enough, brave enough, strong enough for me
Don’t rush me. Please.
We went camping last weekend and there in a sack chair, I read an entire book from cover to cover. I did a piss poor job of slathering sunscreen on and the sides of my calves and my left thigh stung with heat when I finally looked up.
“I will not tell you our love story, because- like all real love stories- it will die with us, as it should.” –The Fault in our Stars
Our story was one of love, though it ended… because it ended.
Our story ended. 


  1. This is just one chapter in the brilliant novel that is your legacy and lifetime. No one knows what will be discovered in the words of each coming chapter – but as you so eloquently said…. God always shows up when we need him… and he’ll be there to steady your hand as you write the next page….

    big hugs, chocolate milk, and sunflowers.

  2. Your story (every story) is a mix of good things and bad things, and you touch on both – I like that. I especially like the memory of him – you were married, you created children together, there were good things, even if bad things took over him in the end. There are bound to be happy memories, and I don’t think you should have to bury them.

    1. There’s a fine line between holding on and simply keeping happy memories, ya know? Intimate details of a marriage, secrets and inside jokes and happy, happy times- it’s all so strange how a person (me) can go from loving a person to choosing not to love them anymore- no matter the reasons, no matter the situation.

  3. with ALL of my heart and ALL of my soul I am hugging you and reaching out to pull you up into a ‘green’ that is all yours 🙂 I LOVE YOU! (and I love YOUR story) xo

  4. This is my first time here and I’m just learning your story but this is beautiful and honest and heart breaking and hopeful at the same time.

  5. Pingback: the long way home

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