This is my kitchen. It isn't spectacular and it doesn’t
have all the latest gadgets or designer furniture. It is neither pretty nor fashionable, but it is functional and it is mine.
It’s my space in which he is sitting
and talking at me, yet again, further illustrating the completely one-dimensional relationship he maintains with the world instead of interacting with it fully. I’m there peeling my zucchinis and I
know that he doesn’t realize that it is over.
I don’t need drama. I don’t need an argument. I don’t
need to lay blame.
I just need to be alone in my kitchen again.
------------------
Well, that could have gone better... but then again, it could have gone
worse.
"They" say all kinds of stupid things, for instance, they say that going down is the best part of roller
coasters... but let’s face it, two years of free-falling downhill isn't fun, it's just tiring. I like the parts where you ramp up, where you can enjoy the view, and savor the
moment.
But then, I’m not really into roller coasters… so, what
am I talking about?
It’s not like he was bad guy. I wouldn’t have stayed with
him as long as I did if he had been.
Although it felt like hours, “the talk” only lasted thirty minutes… Not so bad, nothing got
broken, though he did throw a framed picture at me –missed by me by a mile- which I caught before it smashed against the wall. He got a bit carried away. He said some things that may
have been true and some that I know were not. He said I was cold, and while it’s
true that that whole scene left me cold, I’m pretty sure he meant to say
frigid, and he meant for it to hurt me. But the truth is, although we may have
connected at one point in time, eventually, when I looked at him all I saw was dust
in the air. Little flying particles you can’t normally see that are brought to
life by light. Pretty enough, in their own way, but ultimately immaterial. I’m
not sure when I discovered that there wasn’t anything left behind it.
Maybe later I’ll think back fondly to the good times. But
I wonder if maybe they’ve all been so diluted that they have ceased to exist for all
practical purposes. Either way, although I may be kidding myself, I don’t think
it matters.
For now, I’m happy to reclaim my space...
and I’m going to bake some Zucchini bread.
and I’m going to bake some Zucchini bread.
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