My Vision For My Life

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I have a vision for my marriage. We live in one of those good-sized houses in Park Hill. Lots of trees. After a late dinner, he and I are up to our elbows in dish suds. I have just made him laugh with some brilliantly told story about my day, and he thinks how lucky he is to have me in his life. After drying our hands on tasteful kitchen towels we retire to the living room with tea. I light a fire. The kids are doing their homework in their tidy rooms, or one of them is doing homework and the other one is polishing a Bach cello suite. My husband and I are planning to go to the theater. We talk about the books we’re reading. He listens to me — looks on me with attentive eyes.

I am sitting in the gray leather armchair in my therapist’s office. A black plastic clock sits near a box of Kleenex. She looks at me through magnifying glasses, her brown eyes like paired tunnels to the underworld. I have just told her that I am committed to staying married. She asks me why. I hear the wheeze of a dentist’s drill and feel the floor vibrate. The building has been under construction since I started seeing her a year and a half ago. "It would be easier to work out." Whizzzz. "For the kids. I don’t want to mess up my kids’ lives." She shrugs.

I pull up to the kids’ school. They both see me then turn back to what they are doing. I sit in my car in the loading zone stroking the steering wheel telepathically telling my twelve year-old girl, to get her butt over here. She must hear me. Her defeated shoulders lead her shuffling, long-in-her pants body my way. Her face is red with acne and defiance. She opens the passenger-side door. "Mother, would you please get out here and help me get my stuff?" This is not a request. I follow her to the bench...

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...u’d be a safe bet for marriage ‘cause you’d consider yourself lucky to get someone like me. I figured just getting married would be good enough for you. You’d be happy with the residual glory that came your way, and since I didn’t really love you much I wouldn’t get hurt if you left." I thank him for his honesty.

I have a vision for my life. I live in a simple house in a fairly safe neighborhood. I pay my own bills, mow my own grass, and walk my own dog. After dinner late May I am up to my arms in dish suds. I have just made the kids laugh with some silly story about my day, and I think how lucky I am to be alive. After drying my hands on a clean kitchen towel, I help my children with their homework and listen to their music practice from the back stoop as I rub a twig of lilac over my face and hair.

*Names have been changed to protect the individuals privacy.

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