I have written this confession in my head for the past month, ever since my best friend’s eighth wedding anniversary in August. Thought I would have written some long, drawn out post about my pain, disappointment, and overwhelming anger by now. I mean it literally when I say I have written out this blog post every day in my head.
But today is here, and as I write, I’m more numb than anything else. Without going into too many details, we’re meeting with lawyers this week to make final arrangements before filing. Just looking at the paperwork—looking at eight years of marriage written out in who-gets-what language—is sickening. It is what it is, I guess. He’s moving on and so am I.
Here’s what I would ask from you, dear reader. Stop in and say hello. Even if you’ve never posted, just say, “Hi. Thinking of you today.” The Poet Mom blog has always been a source of great joy for me. And while I don’t want this blog into anything but a creative space to talk about poetry with the occasional mom story, today is an occasion for me to pause and remember that I’m moving the kids and me toward happiness. Today I am saying, “I matter”
I’m honoring the people, things, and life I have by doing what matters most: hugging the kids, going to the job I love and, later, going to my writers’ workshop.
Sunday night, I was in a panic because I couldn’t find Ella’s backpack for school. She and Alex had already gone to bed, so I continued to look but gave up in a huff. The next morning, I asked Ella about it and, of course, she knew exactly where it was: in our mudroom, where it always is, hidden in a little storage cabinet I’ve never used. Alex immediately chimed in, “I think she wanted to hide it from the bad guys!” Hmmm …
On the poetry front, I’ve developed an idea for a long poem … with multiple sections! For some reason, I’ve never written a poem longer than two pages. But I’m really excited to have a focus, which is something I 've lacked for the past few months. It will be based on a series of islands off the coast of Beverly named The Misery Islands (Misery and Little Misery to be more specific). Those titles scream, “write me!”
I'm working on a series of articles for RWP, along with a few other poetry projects I'm taking off the back burner.
Don’t forget to visit the other sinners hanging out in The Confessional.