The Walk

The walk

We were half way around the block before I broached the
subject, down by the lake behind my mother’s house, where we were visiting that
Sunday afternoon. I grew up by that lake, walking my family dog, riding my skateboard,
and flirting with first crushes on warm summer evenings.  

After days of making excuses, it was time to let her in. 

“Honey, I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say,
fumbling into the conversation.

“What Mommy?”  Miss F.
asks, half listening while picking the wildflowers that grow along the
sidewalk. 

“Daddy…” I hesitate, “Went to live with Grandpa.”

“Is that why he hasn’t been home?”

“Yes, baby.  That’s
why.”

“When is he going to come back?”

“I don’t know…”

“Why did he move
out?” 

I pause.  I have
rehearsed this line in my head a hundred times.

“We don’t agree on a lot of things. And sometimes, when you
disagree all the time, mommies and daddies have to live apart from each
other.  But they still both see their
kids.”     

She stands up with her flowers, takes my hand, and we stroll
along the water.

“He’ll come tomorrow for a few hours.  And again on Thursday.  You’ll still see him a lot.  He loves you very much. We both do.”

“I know,” says Miss F. matter-of-factly.  

“Here,” she says, handing me the flowers.  “These are for you.” 

“Thank you, honey.”

We head back to the house, past the geese that I fed
breadcrumbs to as a child, the train trestle where I had my first kiss, and
park benches where I sat, wearing Sony Walkman headphones, trying to block out
the noise of my adolescent angst.  She’s
quiet. She’s a girl who’s never quiet. 
The silence breaks my heart.

My mind begins to race, as it has all week. It pings to fear,
grief, remorse, and back, as I have never before known. 

I remind myself to breathe, and to stay focused on this
moment.  Because as much uncertainty as I
have ahead of me, in this moment, I am OK.

I focus on the warmth of my daughter’s hand as she squeezes
mine, the way the sun hits the sidewalk. I hear the laughter of children somewhere
off in the distance.  It’s a beautiful
afternoon, and right now, what more can I ask for?   

We head into my mom’s, where Miss F. and I join my two other
children.  We sit, getting ready for our
meal, at the table where, as a child I ate, shared secrets with girlfriends
during all-night phone conversations, poured over homework, and daydreamed
about the future.  

Comments

The Walk — 37 Comments

  1. I wish this beautiful, beautifully-written story was fiction. I’m so sorry. Thank you for being so honest and vulnerable and letting us into your world in this way. I’m rooting for you and will keep you and your family in my thoughts and prayers. Hugs all around.

  2. Oh my gosh. I finally got back to your blog after my first attempt (via SITS) was thwarted by a screaming baby. And this. I’m so sorry. I wish you the best of luck as you navigate this transition in your life. I will be following along. ps – FWIW, the entry itself was absolutely beautifully written.

  3. Thank you, Michelle! No matter what the outcome it, it will be the outcome that is supposed to be. I believe in fate – but I am also an optimist. Which means the best days are yet to come – no matter how this situation turns out. Thank you for your support. It means a LOT! xo

  4. You know what, Mary? This blog is so ingrained with my life, that there was almost no way to get around sharing this! I thought about it for about as long as your little lovey was on TV – and full disclosure won. Thank you for your rooting for me. I have one hell of a journey ahead – no matter where this winds up. xo

  5. You know what, Adrienne? I have been thinking about you a lot these past few weeks while in the midst of this – because you have such amazing faith. I know that if I can hang onto faith and trust and let go of the control I think I have – to paraphrase you – all will be OK.
    Thank you for being such an inspiration to me – and thank you for your support. xo

  6. Deb – I am so glad you came back and that this very intimate look into my “here and now” has not scared you away – LOL! As I said above to Mary, I don’t know how NOT too keep things like this off the blog – since this place really chronicles my life. Thank you for your support and the lovely compliment on the writing. It is wonderful to meet you! xo

  7. ALSO – Writing is very therapeutic, if I may be so cliched. In all seriousness, I just posted after a very brief hiatus and I feel a thousand times better.

  8. Ilene. I wish I knew what to say. (I’m with Christine…nothing I say will make it easier.)I want to tell you my heart breaks for you, but I also know you’ve got incredible strength and heart and will get through this. I want to hug you and help you get through this moment of change and through having to explain. I want to hold your other hand and let you know you have friends who care…that you aren’t alone.
    Sending you all my love.

  9. Thanks, Christine. I know you are there and I feel incredibly lucky to have your support. This is that moment in time where all of the “fierce diva” topics that I put out there will be put to the test. Facing fears, letting go of anger, trusting myself…it’s all right in front of me at once! But I will try my damndest to have faith and having the support makes it feel a lot less scary. xo

  10. I’m with everyone else. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I wish I could do something but you’re strong and will get through it. Sounds like your daughter is too! Hang in there!

  11. Praying hard for you, Ilene. My heart breaks for you and your family. Relationships can be so amazingly rewarding and as such require so much of each of us. xoxoxo

  12. crap Ilene I remember sitting around that very same table listening to you kvetch “love stinks” so I guess you were right. However things might eventually work out, you will be n a good place

  13. I’m so sorry that you and your family are going through this. Things happen but I’m rooting for you no matter what. Your kick ass a very strong woman. Do what’s best for yourself and kids. I would love to hear of a happy ending. But only if you are true to yourself. No marriage is perfect I know..but remember the kids watch and do. We are all here for you vent when you need but remember we all care about you and no matter what you can do anything.. Be happy. Hugs. Gerilyn

  14. Oh, girl. I’ve been so swamped lately that I was out of touch and didn’t realize you were going through this. Sending you lots of love. xo

  15. This is such a brave post, and a brave conversation to have with Miss F. I can only imagine the wild ride that the next few months may bring, but there are a lot of people holding you in their hearts.
    Lokah samastha sukinoh bhavantu. That means you, too.

  16. Oh, Gerilyn! I can’t thank you enough for leaving me such a thoughtful comment. Despite this difficult situation and not having any easy answers to it at this moment in time, I am so very lucky to have the support of so many. Thank you for the kind, supportive words and please understand how much they mean to me. xo

  17. I kind of kept things under wraps until this post – so you have not missed a thing. If anything, you gave me an amazing and happy respite from “reality” on Friday when I got to guest post for you. See? You helped me immensely and didn’t even know it. xo

  18. No matter what “Eyeliner” is strong, and what an amazing woman you have become. Our children give us the power and courage that we thought we never had. Love you, I will always be here for you. XO

  19. Oh honey I wish I had kept up better. I am so sorry for this struggle you are going through. Let me know how I can help. I have gone down this road before. Hugs and love to you.