I rarely check my email anymore, but recently I received a note from a woman whose boyfriend is locked up (hello, if you’re reading). She wanted some advice. I wondered what profound bit of information I could offer to comfort and guide her? All of my years of education, and nearly two years of dealing with THIS, led me to one clichéd phrase: take it one day at a time.
Since this journey (and blog) began I have been so full of colliding emotions: doubt, love, blame, dedication, sadness, joy…each fighting for a seat on my train of thought. I have made it through all of this by sheer divine force. It is a wonder I haven’t gone (completely) crazy yet, but we women aren’t afforded the luxury to lose our minds, permanently.
I have my moments, fits of crying—always hushed—where I feel I can’t go on like this, trapped by the distance and loneness. But the alternative…isn’t even in question.
This weekend was the first time beloved and I actually spoke the gravity of the years we are facing out loud to each other.
Ten summers will pass before he is home
Our son will be just about to turn 13
I will be pushing 38
And the world
Will have changed so much
Everyday I question what I/he/we will look like in 10 years. Ten years from now, what will “us” even feel like?
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