​I quietly close the sliding door behind me as I step out onto the porch. A chilly breeze caresses my cheek, and I walk over to the swing and sit down, rocking gently with my feet. I think back, remembering. There were no dramatic moments when I knew what I was about to do. No shouting, no final argument. I was there, encased in my life, and then gone.

I take a deep breath and expel it slowly.

I lived in a marriage that felt like one long season of hormonal addiction. First, I was up, then down. The ups were great, the downs, not so much. Abuse doesn’t have to be physical. First, there is the love-bombing, a wonderful, satiating balm that soothes the soul and makes one glow. Then the downward spiral. A place best left alone, not even to be written about. But, oh, the ups are so fulfilling.

I honestly didn’t know who I was. Anything meant for me had to be scheduled around him. Unless it was work-related. If I ever did anything for myself, went anywhere, had coffee with a friend, or visited with an acquaintance, it was a screaming match. He had to do this, that, and the other. Of course, he couldn’t watch the kids. He was busy. How could someone be that busy if they couldn’t hold a job for more than a week or two? I realized too far in that it was about control, not busyness.

The wasband, instead of husband, as I have come to call him, was free to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, or there was hell to pay. I was on constant watch for his needs. I double checked his moods, fixed his favorite dinners, even if I’d been at work all day, and sometimes, even all night. He always told me he was the man every woman shouldn’t marry, that the mistake was mine for marrying him. It was important to keep the peace, and that was the job I took on. Whether I was right or wrong.

The gaslighting was extreme, and I admit that there were times I fell for it. I questioned who I was, where I’d been, and what I’d said. I wondered why I stayed. The wasband said I had to. I wasn’t smart enough to take care of myself, and who would want a woman with two children? He had great fun with that, and for a long time I believed him. After much self-reflection, here in my little cabin, I've come to realize I stayed because it was familiar, and sometimes, staying is easier.

As I swing, I realize the porch leans a little to the side, and the wood stove smokes. Today I've got smoke, snow, and a crooked swing, but I am at peace.  I am alone, and the quiet feels strange at first, like a language I used to speak but forgot.

​The kids are grown and gone. They are married and are committed to keeping the specter of overpopulation at bay. There was nothing to keep me shackled anymore. So, I left. As quietly as I’d stayed. Yes, there was a pit in my stomach, but I had run out of reasons to stay, and once that happened, I had every reason to leave.

I walk into the forest because I want to. The trees rise around me, tall and viridescent. Their branches, white with snow, move with the wind, and the sound feels like a greeting. In acknowledgment, I nod back.  I keep walking until the path curves and disappears behind a stand of pines and oaks. I breathe in the scent of snow, earth and needles, and I relax. Maybe for the first time in twenty-five years.

The birds are the first to notice me. They sing in layers, each voice distinct. I stop and listen. I realize I have not listened to anything in years. Not really. I heard the wusband shout and the kids laugh, myriad cars honk, and jets roar overhead. But now, I hear the birds, and I let the unfamiliar sound in, and it fills me, giving me chills. Lovely, heart-warming, mind-expanding, chills. There is life beyond the rudimentary schisms of humanity. There is more life here than the one I bathed in for twenty plus years.

The following morning a doe steps onto the trail ahead of me. She looks at me without fear. Imagine that! None. Her eyes are dark and steady. I do not move. I feel something inside me shift, like a door opening. She flicks her ears, then walks away, unhurried. I stand there long after she is gone, trying to understand why I suddenly want to cry. There is a rustle behind me. I turn slowly, and two youngsters follow her. Both unafraid, both secure in their mother and where they are going.

I begin to do small things for myself. I buy a new pair of boots. I find them warm and sturdy, and they fit me perfectly. I walk through mud and snow, up and down hills, across rivers, and causeways.  I cook meals I actually enjoy. I smile, remembering the first time I walked into a grocery store to shop and realized it was the first time shopping for myself. Just me. I skipped the cookie aisle, the junk food aisle, and settled for fruit. Dragon fruit, kiwi, watermelon. Amazing fruits.

Today I slept until my body woke on its own. Even then, I woke with trepidation, wondering how long this peace would last. Of course, my anxiety went from zero to sixty at the thought before I realized that this peace could last forever. As long as it is of my own choosing.

I laugh at the way the squirrels chase each other across the branches. I laugh because it feels good to hear my own voice. I laugh because I am alive, and I realize that laughter is more valuable than gold. I laugh because I am free for the first time in my life. Life is joyful. It is beautiful, and I feel a growing determination to teach my children how to laugh… because I’m not sure they know how.  

I start to notice myself. Not the version of me that tried to be quiet and agreeable. The real one. The one who loves the smell of rain on moss. The one who hums when she cooks. Sings too loudly and will try anything once. I LOVE the me who carries a canoe to a kayaking party.

One afternoon, I sit on a fallen log, sunlight warming my face. I close my eyes and feel the forest breathing around me. I say to myself, "I am here, and I am safe.”  

The forest is teaching me. The birds remind me that I have a voice. The animals remind me that it is not mandatory to fear something new. That you can study a fear and choose to disregard it.  The trees remind me that I can stand tall without asking permission.

I plant a small garden behind the cabin when spring arrives. I kneel in the soil and press seeds into the earth. I borrow cuttings from neighbors and fashion protection over the small, fragile sprouts. I do it because I want to watch something grow. I do it because I am growing too. I sing to them. I whisper to them. They are my family.

I realize I am falling in love. Not with someone else. With the woman I am meeting. She is strong. She is tender. She is smart and capable. She is worth choosing.

​I am my own love story. I am my own homecoming. I am alive and laughing because I stayed long enough to discover who I am.

The moment I step into the screened-in porch, something inside me loosens. Two chairs hug a propane fire pit, and two chairs face a sloping terrace, seen through the screens, open to the mid-morning breeze. The metal chairs are filled with overstuffed cushions that feel as good as they look. The screens are a little dusty in the corners, which doesn’t bother me, and the plants along the walls are healthy and green. Suddenly, my shoulders drop as if the room knows me and has been waiting for me to enter.

I breathe deeply and let it go.

I slip off my shoes, sit in the chair to the right, and stretch my legs until my feet rest on the wainscot. The wood is cool under my heels. My feet are dirty from walking outside, and the chipped paint on my toenails looks like a map of all the places I have visited this morning. My five miles are in, up and down the hills with barely a straight-away. I am anxious to rest. Here, on the porch, nothing bothers me. This porch forgives everything. It holds me the way a familiar song holds a memory, sweet and innocent. Filled with promise.

My friend sits across from me. His feet are up on the wainscot, too. They are just as dirty as mine. We look like two kids who wandered in from the yard and forgot to clean up. We laugh about nothing. We grow quiet without effort. The silence feels like a soft blanket, keeping my fear at bay. I love ordinary moments like this. They are rare in a world that keeps trying to pull me into storms I never asked for, and for the love of God, never wanted. Yet, I grow, each time I fall, I get up and try again.

My life has been loud. It has been full of sharp turns, thorns, and sudden drops. I have known drama that has left me tired in ways sleep could never fix. When I sit here and feel the calm settle into my bones, I know I am touching something sacred. Peace is not a luxury. It is a need. It is a truth I did not understand when I was young.
​
As I sit and watch the hummingbirds, I realize there is very little left in life that I want other than health and happiness for my family. Open communication is one. Devotion. Love. I want the kind of honesty that does not shake when the storms rage.

There is no room for lies on this porch. The screens let the breeze in, and they keep the falsehoods out. Only truth can breathe here. Truth is more valuable than gold or bank accounts. Truth is the only thing that does not crumble when life gets heavy.

I finally understand that trust is the foundation of everything. Without trust, you have nothing. Without trust, love cannot grow. Love cannot survive inside a lie. It wilts. It breaks. It becomes something twisted and small. I do not want that kind of love. I want the kind that sits across from me with dirty feet and an open heart.

​The kind that laughs with me and keeps me warm.
.

I've loved you since that first day. You ran up to my ship, a big grin plastered on your face, saying how much you loved strong women. I wasn't sure whether that was a compliment, but I took it as one, even as my son's head popped up from the engine area and said, "Can I help you?"

My heart flipped over as you walked away, and I wondered if I'd see you again. There was a thump in my chest that let me know I was still alive. I wasn't sure if I wanted that experience again, but it didn't matter. It came, and it stuck. 

It has been years now, and I wonder if you know that you walk beside me, invisible but very much alive in my mind. I have made you my confidant. I tell you things I share with no one else. I hear you speak, I feel you move through my thoughts as if my brain is a room we both share. I have no idea if you feel the same way, but I've found it fascinating that I can have a love affair without the other person ever knowing. 

When we do meet, we talk about the weather, the seasons, anything generic and non-emotional. Yet, your laughter lives in me, your smile and happy crinkled eyes, fill my heart.  I notice everything about you. I feel you even when you are not there. 

Years have passed. I date no one. Friends ask why. I shrug. I act like I am waiting for something else. Something better. Something real. But the truth is, I am waiting for you. I am a one heart woman. Once my heart is given it cannot be taken back.  Love will live in me until death, even if I don't want it to.  

Sometimes I wish I hadn't met you. 

We never kiss. We never touch in a way that means anything. Our hands brush when we walk, and we both pull away too fast. It is fear. It is habit. It is the strange comfort of a love that never has to risk becoming real. Reality means blended families, truth, responsibility, accountability.  

People say we would make a good couple. I laugh it off. I act surprised. He says nothing. I say nothing. We keep our silence like a pact.

We grow older. Our hair changes. Our faces change. My life does not. I stay single. I stay close. I stay quiet. The world moves around me, but I remain in place. Frozen in time. 

When he passes from life, I feel the moment his mind leaves mine. It is a sudden emptiness. A door closing. A light going out. I sit down on the floor because my legs stop holding me. I don't cry, at first. I only listen to the silence where he used to be. Who will give me advice? Who will direct my feet, my heart, my mind?

When I die, I hope he feels me again. I hope he knows I loved him. I hope he knows he lived in my head for a lifetime. I hope he knows I never let anyone else in.

I may never have said a word about my feelings.

​But it was still love.

*Artwork made with AI