Yesterday I sat and reviewed documentation for an upcoming post entitled, “In Defense of Him.” I sorted through the sordid, walked slowly through the harrowing halls of time, and dug my fingers into a wound not yet healed. I probed from superficial to deep, first into the meat, and then to the marrow, of my very soul.
It literally took all day to write the story that unfolded for him, and thus for me over the last fifteen years. Even as we lay in the dark last night it was the last thing on our lips.
Today I dropped off the boy to a hockey school clearly run by men, in a county whose obsession is hockey then hospitality – in that order. Take the jersey and go to dressing room two. I hunted to find an adult amidst the masses of preteen boys all very aware of themselves and the lone mother in their midst.
Then there came groceries in the tiny town store… peaches, goat cheese, no decent coffee to be seen and now the beach. A small stop to walk, to unfurl my limbs and to unclench my heart. Inviting the sound of the waves and the strength of the wind to sweep away some of the sorrow and leave the sweet.
“My Peace I leave with you,” says He.
“His peace I leave with you,” says me.