Dust

Closing in on two months (since that fateful Saturday night conversation in the candle lit guest room).

The dust is settling. My emotional breakdowns are a thing of the past. Although I had a big one last week. Although I know there'll be more to come. Even as the dust settles. All around me. For it seems as I will remain in the house and she will be the one leaving. Taking the kids with her. Thank God, not far. Same town. Close, very close by. For the kids, this house could be their sanctuary, from the new. From the unfamiliar. Their house. Tried and true. Where they were both born and raised. Their house, as comfortable as their favorite clothes. Always welcome. Always needed. And as they will be in the new, always loved. This is good. This outcome should produce more quality time with the kids for me. This is very good. My rebirth, the quality, the successfulness of this new beginning will be strengthened by my relationship with sweet Nathaniel and adorable Georgia (Peach).

The dust will settle all around me. If I let it. Because their departure to their new beginning will leave dust in their wake. Memories. Swirling upward in languid, roving twisters. Slowly spreading, outward. Surrounding me. Taunting me. Daring me. Hanging in the air like birds surfing the late summer breeze just above the tree line. Looking, but in no hurry, for a cozy landing spot. Reaching for the far corners of the living room. Dining room. Stretching for the kitchen. Because it looks like a comfortable kitchen. A providing kitchen. And stretching harder for the bedroom. If only. If only the dust had more height. More synergy. More swirl, speed, anything. Stretching harder for the bedroom, where she once stood in the doorway

as I laid in the darkness. Where she said, "Michael, I have something to tell you." Where I slowly, tentatively began to sit up. Where she told me. Where I sat stunned. Scared. Amazed. Worried and excited. All at once. All at the same time. Where I realized that I, still hard to believe even to this day, that I was going to be a father. That she was going to be a mother. That we were having a baby. Starting a family.

If I let it. The dust will settle all around me. If I let it. And I can't let it.

The memories, all of them, the good, the bad, the happy, sad - they're all in the past. I'm going through a rebirth, and I cannot afford to live in the past. Nobody can. I need to sweep up the dust. Continuously. And keep a clean, tidy home. A clean, tidy state of mind. A clean, tidy path. To my next day. To this day, and all the days that follow. I won't let that dust settle and strap me down in a quagmire of regret. The only regret to possibly have at this point, is the regret of not allowing myself a proper, celebrated rebirth. A regret that's not going to happen. I need to be the strongest, kindest, most loving man I can possibly be. For me. For Daniel. Ella. For everyone around me. Even my ex-wife. The tireless dynamo that she is.

My rebirth is to be celebrated. As is hers. For this is life. And we are living. And if you are living, you should always be growing. Learning. Loving. Celebrating. Living. All the things that that tireless dynamo tried to show me for twenty years. She got it, the big picture, a long, long time ago. I did not. I was just along for the ride. That saddened her. It saddened her for a mighty long time. The picture I saw, in comparison, was so small you could call it tiny. Now that she has up and left, severing the dependency, I am forced to see the big picture. Forced to see the big picture drive away. Albeit, not far. But still, driving away. From me. Forced to see it and respond to it.

Let the dust settle all around me. Or not.

Realize who I am. I am a man. Living. On this earth. With a purpose. Many purposes. Some of which I am aware of, like being a real father. Spiritual, giving loving support and guidance to Nathaniel and Georgia. Like being a civil civilian. Honest. Truthful. Trustworthy. Modest. Caring. Like being a friend. Having empathy for neighbors and friends in need.

Realize who I am. A man. Living among the un-incarcerated. Getting by. In pursuit of happiness, just like the rest. A man with purpose. Many purposes. Some of which I am unaware of. Like, well, I don't know, I'm unaware of them right now. But, the feeling of strength, and it is a solid, strong feeling, that I feel building in my heart and mind through this rebirth is leading me to these unknown purposes. And I like that. No. I love that. I want to embrace these new purposes like I embrace a dear friend. With kindness. With tenderness. With hope. And optimism.

Realize who I am. A man. Deeply sensitive. Alive. Living well. More aware. Of my daughter. Peach. Now fifteen. A beautiful young woman. She won't be staying this age. And she won't be getting younger. I'm aware of that. She's maturing. Growing up. Fast. I'm aware of my son. Now twelve. Reserved, much like me. His evolution into manhood is about to begin. I'm aware of this. I'm also aware of my journey through the process of becoming a man. And the mistakes and missteps that occurred along the way. I'm aware that I must be there for my Nate.

Realize who I am. A man more aware. Reborn into the same world where I once lived. Reincarnated to live a better life. A blessed second chance. A man aware. Of true beauty. Deep, vibrantly colorful, gracious beauty on the inside. Beauty that comes from her eyes, through her words, through her smiles, and laughter. And even her ears as she listens to me. Soft, gentle, graceful beauty on the outside. Realize who I am. Aware, continuously now, of her understated beauty illuminated in my car. The lovely contrast of the car's dark interior, magically enhanced by the suburban nightscape, and Victoria's angelic aura. Bright. Illuminous. Radiant. Healing. Sweet, sweet Vicky. An angel in the passenger seat of my car. Driving through a beautiful part of the world, during a beautiful time of the year. An angel listening to me. Conversing with me. Smiling at me. I am aware of her presence. Aware of her presence when she is near. Aware of her presence, in my heart and in my thoughts, when she is not near.

A man aware of her kind tenderness. A man aware of her.

We travel through the countryside. It's beauteous, this land we're traveling through. A lovely place to live. We're lucky, very lucky, to have it. We talk. About serious stuff. Life, loss, identity, sadness, love, Armand, Reine-Marie, Ruth, and Billy Williams. We chuckle as we both admit that we're both F.I.N.E.. Her seat is set a little back, further than mine. Making it harder to focus on her while I drive. I don't mind. I like this angle of her. As I crane my neck to the right and back a little, I see it. She is the Sun, the center, of this new universe inside my 2005 Nissan Sentra. A universe I didn't know existed. Newly discovered. It's, actually, breathtaking. Breathtaking, in the thought of its existence. Its mysterious creation. How was this universe created? Did the magical suburban nightscape have something to do with it? Was it the moon watching over us? Playing maestro with our colliding worlds? Was it a God that created it? Or was it two souls circling each other through space and time, finally close enough to create this moment of wonder? Eyes back on the road.

Her kindness has captured and captivated me. My attention, fully. I remind myself to keep an eye on the road as well. Which I do, to my chagrin. Eyes focus on the road ahead, but it's not long before they return to the face of the angel sitting next to me. She's as beautiful as the autumn night we share. Natural beauty, born of the heavens, passed on through the stars, past the waning gibbous moon to blossom here on Earth. Here in the understated beauty of the inviting, comforting, rolling hillsides of Pennsylvania, so lucky to have her. As is everywhere else her adventurous heart takes her. I can't stop watching her. I want this ride to last forever.

The dust longs to settle. To find its final resting place. But I won't let it. Not anymore.