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My Husband Left Me at 54
« Have you considered talking to Dad? »
« Fine, I understand. I love you, Mom. I just wanted things to feel normal again, » my son added.
« I know. I love you too. But normal is what broke me. »
I hung up and cried for an hour.
Not because I was wrong, but because being right cost something.
I bought a new skin cream, which I kept on my nightstand.
Lipstick for my purse.
Clothes that fit the woman I was becoming.
I didn’t become 25 again.
I became myself.
« I just wanted things to feel normal again. »
The setback came in the cereal aisle.
I was reaching for the oatmeal when I heard my name.
It was Diane, a woman Howard and I used to have dinner with years ago.
« Jane, oh my goodness, you look wonderful! »
« Thank you, Diane. »
She lowered her voice as if she were doing me a favor.
« I just want you to know, I saw Howard and his new woman last weekend. They seem to be doing well. I thought you’d want to know. »
The setback came in the cereal aisle.
I smiled the way you do when something inside you is folding in half.
« That’s nice, Diane. »
« She’s younger, polished, and always smiling as if life had never asked her to choose between sleep and laundry. »
I got to my car before the tears came.
Monica found me on the couch that night with a half-eaten container of yogurt and red eyes.
« What happened? »
I told her about Diane.
About how stupid I felt for letting one sentence undo six months of work.
I got to my car before the tears came.
My daughter sat down next to me and took my hand.
« Mom, you aren’t doing this for him. You’re doing it for yourself. Don’t give up on yourself. »
I squeezed her fingers and nodded.
The following morning, I laced up my shoes and walked my longest route yet.
Time passed the way it does when you stop measuring yourself by someone else’s clock.
Birthdays.
Seasons.