I've been dreading this week. Not because of the holiday, but because MyWife told me last Thursday, "I'm going to be off all next week." Her voice held a weird tone like, "So, if you can find a better place to be, I'd get there."
I tried.
I couldn't.
Did you know that there's something to that cliché about "can't even get arrested in this town."
Once again, I tried.
So here I am, at the home, all week. I figured if anything was going to put a test on this whole "Friendly" divorce thing, a week home together would do it.
Actually, I was surprised; after last weekend, it's like the fever broke. We've been getting along great all week. She even seemed concerned when she asked,
"What time to you usually get home from your walk?"
"About 3:30." Then I explained my route to her, so if she didn't see me come home she could track me down.
"So if you see my car speeding toward you, will you dodge?"
"If it's you? Of course not."
"Thanks. You are the greatest."
See? We can get along when we try. I think I agree with what she said the other night. "We would have made great friends."
Yeah, we would have made great friends. I disagree with the part where she said we needed to divorce though. There she's on her own, but that doesn't matter. Seems divorce is one of those things were you don't need a unanimous vote. Well, you really don't need a vote at all do you? Just one person ready to pack up and leave...
Besides, when it comes to female friends, the wife on duty doesn't generally approve. I've been there, but that’s a story for later, this story is about getting along with my wife-to-not-be, and whether we can be working acquaintances at this point.
Yesterday was kind of surreal, asking her about her day house hunting. (She hasn't found anything affordable she likes yet, but thanks for asking.) I brought her pipe and slippers, then she sifted through the paper and watched the game, while I made dinner. It's funny, she's looking for a home, and I need to rent out a room. The one person I know whose looking for a place, won't live with me, but she does want to be my friend. What can I do? I can't afford the mortgage on my own. So if you know somebody who needs to rent a room send 'em by, it's a nice neighborhood, and I only walk around the house naked once a day. The rest of the time I wear my blue Lycra shorts.
I've said all along, that I didn't think I could do that: be friends. It's too much. Still, yesterday as I was doing my walk, I thought about how things have been this week, and maybe there's hope. I'd be more positive, but I come from a long line of Scotsmen, we're not renowned for our forgiveness. We're so unyielding, that our offender can be dead and buried for decades and we still make time to spit on their grave. Yup. That's us. But sometimes I think maybe I have enough of my mom in me, enough gentle spirit. Maybe someday I can let something go. Maybe let this go. Maybe, I dunno.
It's tough, because obviously, MyWife is the same way. We're like magnets of indignation, drawn together by our polar disposition. Only now, one of us flipped, and we repulse each other with amazing force; each of us still covered with filings of those who've wronged us before.
That is one thing. When we divorce, I'll no longer need to bear her grudges. Whew! What a serious load! Plus (let's not forget), I'm chained to my own yoke of injustice: I can't move from the combined weight. According to the settlement though, she'll keep hers. That's kinda cool, cuz now I can fly American airlines, rent from Blockbuster and drive Saturn cars again.
Maybe I can learn from this. Maybe I can be a forgiver. I can forgive her grudges, forgive MyWife for breaking us apart, then let go every perceived wrongdoer in my life. Live and let live: my new credo.
Then again I could hold them chained in contempt forever, like a super hero. I like super heroes. That's right. They'll call me "GrudgeMan!" And yes, the exclamation point will be part of my proper name. Good people will bow before my righteous anger while my tome of sworn enemies will tremble in regret, never to be free again.
Either way, forgiving wimp or madman hero, My wife has created a crux of choice. I can recreate my life, or live as I always have. She's opened a blink of freedom, now I need to "do".
For that I owe her. For that, I'll forgive her.
2 comments:
Forgiving is not forgetting. It just means that you're willing to not let the anger and hurt affect your actions today or tomorrow. It doesn't mean that you weren't wronged, or weren't hurt in the past.
That's my $.02, or how I kept things civil. :)
Oh, that's fine, your 2 cents add up.
And you're right. Forgiving is a far cry from forgeting. It's the difference between moving on and making the same stupid mistake again. I'm pretty good at the "not forgetting" thing too.
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