Friday, December 15, 2017
Three More Months
Three more months before we sign a piece of paper and wait for word.
Three more months before we've lived separately for an entire year.
Three more months before I look forward and likely think - what now?
Three more months before ...
What?
Before what?
Today is the nine month mark.
I'm not pointing that out as the premise for this post, because nine months seems like forever in the scheme of things. And three seems as though they'll fly by.
Three more months before I have to truly decide, do I want to maintain the same last name as my child for a while longer, or am I ready to go back to who I was before?
I'm still me.
Despite the changes I've lived through and the changes that come.
But what is my name, exactly?
I don't think I know. Yet.
Three more months until we find ourselves breaking things down - piece by piece - between us. Not that we haven't done much of that already, because we have. We do. And still, we will.
Three more months.
Until.
Before.
Three left. Nine gone. Twelve total.
Thank you, North Carolina.
For twelve.
I can't say if that was a good thing or a bad one.
I can't say if things would have fallen into place differently without them.
I'm not sure if I'm saying thank you for real or with sarcasm.
I really don't know.
I'm just saying it because it's what crosses my mind right this very second.
In this moment.
Where I noticed. Suddenly. That today.
December 15th.
Leaves me with three more months to call myself a wife.
Although that part of me - she's been gone for a while now - she's known the nine and she's packed her bags and moved on.
She visits now and then, knowing the date is coming.
She made space, though, so the woman who stands in her place can experience different things.
All the firsts.
Calling herself something new.
Three more months.
Until.
Until we move into the next stage of coparenting.
Before.
Before we move into another stage of what life is for us now.
For me.
Post. After. Next.
Three more months.
And then. It's over.
For good.
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I sent you a DM. Because Twitter DMs are so personal and compassionate, eh?
ReplyDeleteHolding you close my friend.
ReplyDeleteHugs. Remember to breathe.
ReplyDeletedenise