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Archive for August, 2010

“Divorce”

Written by Sue Goyette, based off of Jack Gilbert’s poem “Divorce”.

Imagine waking up and hearing crying,
that quiet sob of despair and rushing through
the house, then remembering. Looking out

the window to see only moonlight and concrete.
Imagine his hand and his paper, later. He’s at his desk,
the whole house behind him, looking over his shoulder,

the door frames, the radiators. Imagine in the middle
of an empty house, the haunting of that quiet despair,
her name like a newly-winged insect searching

for light and some kind of heat, fluttering near his mouth,
the memory of a kiss he still can taste. Imagine
the details of his loss as he shifts through the rubble

of marriage for a poem, something he can manage
to bury again in four lines, bury or somehow illuminate. Imagine him
at his desk choosing where to end the line, after crying,

he decides, after house. Where else could it have ended?
If he were an architect, he would sketch a small cabin
with high ceilings well suited for the acoustics of the low sounds

of sorrow that waft sometimes like smoke. If he were a teacher
with a grade ten class in front of him, he would try reading
a love sonnet out loud, stopping at the word true, his heart groaning

under the weight of it, breaking, a little shift in his chest. He’d conduct
all trains home, make the soupe du jour a good chicken noodle to soothe
the tired shoulders of hunched regret, he would only sign out books

with long indexes and black and white photographs and deliver post cards
from tropical islands, throwing the heating bills down the sewer.
He would agree to the construction of a new bridge, cleaning up

the harbour, expanding the city, but he is a poet who sits up in the middle
of the night, thinking he heard her cry. He gets up, looks out
the window and then remembers that she has left and left so hard; the moon,

the concrete coaxing each other out. He sits down at his desk, chooses a pen
and slowly writes Divorce at the top of the long blank page of all that is left.

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Today, and another day previously, I saw someone on Twitter get jumped on for simply tweeting about an upcoming trip to Target. I’m sick to death of this, and I’m not going to stay quiet about it anymore.

Look, the person Target donated to sounds like a pretty lousy person, I’ll give you that. He’d never in a million years get my vote. And yes, Target thoroughly apologized for this “error in judgment” and have vowed to take a closer look at where their donation money goes. Maybe that’s not enough, maybe it is. Who are we to decide?

But what really tans my hide is this: taking something that’s supposed to be this pure, clean thing – this community of writers, parents, non-writers, non-parents, PEOPLE, CONNECTING, which results in us helping absolve this all-too-common feeling of loneliness, especially with parents – and tarnishing it with their hatefulness. Do you really think that spewing your hatred and vitriol at someone is REALLY going to do anything but make you look like a jackass?

So what if this person shops at Target? Maybe they are uninformed. Maybe they don’t understand. Maybe they just prefer Target to W*lmart. Or, God forbid, THEY JUST DON’T CARE. Why can’t we just keep our nastiness and high-horses to ourselves?

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One Year.

Three hundred and sixty five days. That’s how long it’s been since my entire life, our entire life, changed forever.

I’m not certain when things started to go wrong. I’ve searched in my memories, in old journals and blog posts and conversations with close friends, and there doesn’t seem to be a definitive time of “THAT! Yes, that. That is when you should have left him.”

Regardless, one year has brought us to an entirely different place. A different state, a different relationship, a different and deeper love for someone else. A different heart, a different mindset. My child is different, and sometimes I wonder what she would have turned out to be had her father been the one to be by my side for the rest of her life to raise her. If my someone and I eventually married, she still would have a different life than what I had planned for her. How will this affect who she becomes?

How has it affected who I’ve become? I’m certainly nowhere near the same person I was. I love my child deeper, but it’s taken a lot longer to trust my someone the way he deserves. Somedays, I still question. I’ve tried to push him away again and again. But he loves me, wholeheartedly, baggage and all.

I had absolutely  no intentions of getting into a relationship for months, possibly years after my husband and I split up. But this incredible person, this heart-shaped gem, this rare gift, found me. Chose me. Loved me. Inspired me to be better, to get better, and to continue getting better. I still have a long way to go, but with his guidance and support, as well as the love of the God I know in my heart, and the incredible friends I have in real-life and in the online world, I will not just survive: my daughter and I will thrive and be something, do something great.

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