Today is the first day in a long while where I’ve been able to write. Why? I have time to burn as I take the train to work. My last two excursions driving into DC were excruciating exercises in anger management mixed with bouts of serenading my fellow traffic jam brethren with my renditions of caterwauling to country music.
What sets today apart from the past few months is something so simple: I went to sleep smiling and happy. For those few readers that I have left and who don’t know I am going through a gut wrenching divorce. I am no longer living at the place I called home for the past 12 years and I’m looking for a new place to accomodate both me and my two large dogs. While this goes on my dogs are living with soon-to-be-ex.
Although I’m currently living with one of my sisters and her family I am acutely aware that I am in alien territory. Nothing feels like home, nothing really feels like it is ‘mine’. I have no sense of permanence. I don’t have my family with me. I no longer go to bed with my platoon of happy pets; sleeping next to the person I wanted to live out my life with. No more cats nestled up in my arms at my side or next to my face, no more dogs sleeping on the floor next to me or sadly embedded between my legs.
I am alone and it has been difficult.
Yesterday I got a little bit of relief. I had to pick up my dogs for an appointment with their vet. I took this as an opportunity to grab some of my belongings that were left at the house. Among the items I took were three blankets:
- A blanket that my mom crocheted for me when I was a child.
- The blanket that Tobey, my first Berner, was wrapped in when we brought him to the emergency vet after we found him dead the day after Christmas.
- Farley’s favorite blanket which he would wrap himself or nest in when he would go to sleep or that he would hug for comfort when he was upset.
It doesn’t seem like much, does it? Three pretty innocuous items which could just as easily been tossed into a trash bag and donated to charity. To me they are treasures that are priceless.
After bringing my sweet dogs back to my former home and packing up my car I drove back to my sister’s house. After a lively dinner and conversation I excused myself and retired to bed. I was genuinely exhausted from a long day of driving, work and the emotional trauma of saying goodbye to my pets again.
When I pulled out the blanket my mom made for me I smiled. I hugged the other two and wished them a good night. I then spread my crocheted souvenir of my past life, of home, over my comforter of what used to be my guest bed. I smiled when I crawled under my covers. The first time I seven months.
That’s how I fell asleep. I finally fell asleep smiling, feeling secure and like I was tucked away in a little pocket of home.
Keep writing. It’s good therapy.