vacation – Sweat & Sparkle

The Orchard House

I am at work today, but mentally, I keep drifting back to my week off. My husband and I drove up to Pennsylvania and met up with my brothers at a huge house on an apple orchard. It was gorgeous! There was a bridge at the end of the driveway, then a long, winding drive up to the house, surrounded by mountains and horses and trees. I grew up in a mountain valley, so I felt like I was home.

One of my brothers couldn’t make it, and I missed him. A lot. I really wanted all four of us together. Maybe next time.

The days went by so damn fast. I enjoyed every minute. I took as many pictures as I could. I stayed up much later than I should have, sitting by the fire in the backyard, near a little waterfall and pond, just talking and laughing with my husband and brothers. I wanted to hold onto each moment tightly, because I knew it would be over before I was ready.

We visited our parents’ gravesite one morning, then drove by our childhood home. As soon as I saw the little white fence at the end of the driveway, I felt my chest tighten. It was home, but it wasn’t; it belongs to someone else now. That person had made some changes to the yard, and we drove by in silence, knowing we didn’t really have a right to be upset about it, but we were upset anyway. It felt like they were trespassing, no matter how logically we understood that it wasn’t Mom’s house anymore.

When the morning arrived to head home, I fought tears as I hugged my brothers good-bye. I saw my younger brother run up to my older brother’s car, laughing, joking around about something, and I wanted so much to have one more day with them. We miss out on each other’s lives so much now, living so far away from each other.

I have already sent an email to my brothers, asking for ideas to start planning a get-together for next year. I hope we can make it happen, get all four of us in the same place again, even if just for a little while.

Yesterday, my husband and I took the day off to recover from the long drive, to unpack, catch up on laundry. Last night, he sighed and said no matter how many days together we get, he wishes for just one more. I feel the same way. It says a lot that after a day-long car drive (each way), and several full days together, we still wanted more of each other.

Driving home, I found myself glancing over at him, my heart swelling with pride and love and so much emotion. He didn’t complain–not even once–about the long drive. He did whatever he needed to do, to get me in the same place as my brothers again. I loved watching them interact and tease each other and share stories. My younger brother told my husband that he is part of the family, like it or not, and we laughed, but it also meant a lot to me that he feels that way.

I loved watching my husband visit places for the first time, his excitement, the way he would suddenly turn to me and hug me and say “This is so cool. Thank you.” I loved making new memories with him and having new stories to tell about our trip. I love that he is in my life to share each day, at home, on vacation, on the road…anywhere.

Beaches, Sunsets, and Classrooms

This week, my husband and I celebrated 19 years together. We’ve made a tradition of taking a weekend trip near our wedding anniversary. It fell on a weekday this year, so we took a few days off to spend our anniversary at our favorite beach.

It threatened to rain on us, and it was actually sprinkling as we set up our chairs and umbrella the first day, but that was surprisingly soothing: relaxing in our chairs and listening to the gentle rain tap lightly on the umbrella, waves crashing rhythmically in front of us. Then the rain decided to give us a break, and we spent a beautiful afternoon alternating between jumping in the waves and half-dozing under the umbrella.

The days went by so fast. I loved our time together, nothing to worry about but what to get into next. On our last evening, we took a long walk down the beach, picking up seashells that caught our eye, pausing to take in the pink and blue and purple sunset that managed to peek through the clouds, seemingly just for us.

Today, my husband is helping our older daughter set up her classroom for her very first teaching job. I’m not sure which one is more excited about it, him or her! She has talked about being a teacher ever since she was very little. I got her a teacher Barbie doll many years ago that she still has, with a mini chalkboard, stored away with other cherished toys in her old bedroom closet. We played endless hours of school over the years, sitting in front of her while she instructed, preached, told random stories, issued commands, whatever popped into her head as she strutted in front of us. And now, here she is, awaiting the first day of school and her first classroom of (real) students.

I have been thinking of both of them all day. It’s fitting, actually, that the two of them are working together on her classroom today. They have always been close. I love that she was at our house when she received the job offer, and I love that my husband is with her today, working in her classroom with her. They deserve to share this happiness together, after all the jealous and bitter attempts by his ex to drive them apart. It didn’t work on them, and it didn’t work on us. Go figure.

I’m looking forward to heading home and hearing all about his day, and her classroom, and her new school, before we settle into our weekend together. It’s going to be diabolically hot, but yard work doesn’t do itself, so there is definitely some heavy sweating in our Saturday forecast. But after that (and after much-needed showers) is our date night, so it will be a great day, no matter what.

The Text

After more than a week off with my husband over Christmas, I was far from ready this morning to get up and head back to work. I thoroughly enjoyed our leisurely mornings, sleeping in, snuggling, starting the day with “What do you want to do today?”

I have been in slow motion today, my mind not really at work at all, and I guess I was not the only one. I had only been at work a few hours when I got this text:

I went outside, and my husband was parked at the curb with the window down. He offered to abduct me from work, and it was quite tempting, but I suppose I should actually get something done today. I will be leaving soon for a few more days off, after all, and we are more than ready to enjoy the hell out of them.

And Now…

I love this quote. It’s like it was written just for me and my husband, because this is exactly where we are right now.

Last month, we celebrated our wedding anniversary at a resort on the beach. As we sat together at the outdoor bar one evening, waves crashing in and out nearby, I sipped my drink, watched my husband a moment, and thought how amazingly far we have come.

We have leapt hurdles, climbed mountains, and battled like warriors simply to be together. We found each other in the middle of our own personal thunderstorms, both fresh out of the most toxic relationships of our lives. With each other, we found peace and learned to smile again.

And that was something that certain other people simply could not stand.

I could go on and on for volumes, describing all the assaults and attacks we survived over the years, and you would think I made up at least half of it. Who’s crazy enough–childish enough–to do all that? As soon as my husband’s ex, Psycho, found out that he wasn’t sobbing in a fetal position without her, and had in fact found happiness with someone better, she devoted every moment of her empty life to harassing, haranguing, and badgering us.

Despite her relentless efforts to push us apart, we moved closer to each other. Maybe because of that, actually. We had each other’s backs, supported each other, fought for each other. We navigated our relationship through an endless battlefield, yet we still enjoyed being with each other. That says so much.

We could have given up. We could have said “Enough” and walked away from each other, just to be left alone. I know that is what Psycho wanted and fully expected. If we ended it because we just weren’t right for each other, I could live with that. But I would be damned if we said good-bye because a vindictive cockroach didn’t want us together. Fuck her.

I still feel that way. And I’m glad we chose to focus on us instead of her hissing and slithering. We quickly learned to block her out and make our relationship about just us, no outsiders welcome.

Sitting at that beach bar with my husband, I thought about our many years in a cramped, teeny apartment, dreaming of a house of our own, a garden, a swing in a tree in the front yard. After all the struggles, all the battles, all the scratching and clawing, we deserve to stand at the top of that mountain now, with our arms around each other, proud, loved, happy.

What does Psycho have after 18 years of resentment, bitterness, and hostility? Exactly what she deserves: nothing and no one.

It’s beautifully ironic. My husband and I are still together, closer than ever, waking up in each other’s arms every morning, dreaming up new things to discover and places to explore together…while Psycho, after years of hatefully trying to bulldoze me away from him, is as unwanted as a scrap of trash, hurling herself at every guy that wanders by, desperately pleading for attention. It’s humorous, fitting, and nothing less than what the stringy-haired, horse-faced bitch deserves.

Oh, I’m sure someday she will manipulate some lonely idiot with no other prospects into dating her beyond a sloppy, disappointing one-night stand. And someday, quickly, when she tires of wearing her mask and can’t keep up with pretending to be even a slightly sane and reasonably decent human being, it will crumble like it always does into non-stop arguing, screaming, throwing things, accusing, cheating, and making his life unendurably miserable, which is the only thing at which she excels.

Psycho foolishly fantasizes that she can drive us apart, when she can’t even make herself like her. (Get real, her own mother didn’t like her.) She wouldn’t lie about herself so incessantly if she is proud of what she sees in the mirror.

Well, when her reflection is a worthless sow who has never stood on her own two feet; who has never independently provided the kids with anything; whose only accomplishment is collecting a plentiful array of mug shots, arrests, and felonies; who exploits and uses the children for her own selfish gratification; who goes home every day to a trailer as trashy, used up, and beggarly as she is, like a scavenging rat returning to its slovenly hole…well, then living a perpetual lie is actually an understandable alternative to facing her truth.

Ultimately, Psycho will never have what my husband and I have. When she isn’t lying to herself, she knows that is why she is obsessed with us and the reason she attacks us. If she can’t have it, why should we?

Because we work for it. We deserve it. We fight for it. We found it with each other when we least expected it, took a chance on it, and we treasure it, protect it, and hold onto it for dear life. And now, we intend, with every beat of our hearts, to enjoy each cherished moment of what we have built together to its absolute and triumphant fullest.

Don’t worry, Psycho. You can still watch jealously from the sidelines when you oh-so-sneakily use the kids’ Facebook accounts to stalk us and make yourself even more bitter by gorging on our happiness. What else are you possibly going to do while you rot in your shitty shack, spin more lies, steal more shit, creep your exes on social media, sprout more wrinkles, and futilely, frantically, and pathetically wish you were anyone but you?