driving in a fog

The miles ticked by as the fuel burned from my tank. 

The restless kids in the backseat were a constant reminder of the distance. The glaze of rain coated the world in a heavy dampness which mirrored my mood, only falls brilliant fireworks exploding on the trees made the drive bearable. (I am dreading it when the world looks dead again) What would the day hold, what cruel rejection would I face? My mind was racing with the thoughts of a life that has gone not on the path I had always dreamed, and I wondered where I had gotten so off course.

I pulled up to the hospital, it is a weird combination of devastatingly beautiful and terrifyingly creepy, like the beginning of a good horror movie before the ghosts act up. 

I called, and I was at the wrong door, but he found us.

He came down and he had shaved for me, I believe he maybe even showered. 

We went to lunch, and he was lighter, somehow, he dealt with Samara’s meltdown, and held Sirris during the meal. It as good in a way. 

We talked some, he missed me…. but not the kids, he even stated he did not miss them.

He has been in contact with his mother, apparently it is all my fault, and he has no blame in it all. I ensnared him with my womanly guise and stole his sperm to have children he never wanted. 

I saw he was trying, trying to control his temper, trying to do well. but under it all I know he was ready to explode, he is no where near ready to return home and it is all an act. He is not ready to come home. 

We went to the airzoo, and then to dinner… 

At dinner the manger could tell we were off somehow… You could see it in us, its like were dating and they are my kids not his. not ours. 

I dropped him off and he was all to happy to leave us once more. 

As the miles passed on the way home the sun began to set, and with it a dense fog rolled in, covering the road in patches. I couldn’t help but feel it was all to familiar with how the day had gone. Like the fog was just clouding my mind, covering what was real with something in a haze. 

He misses me, or more so he misses sex, and someone to care for him. 

He does not miss our children. 

Somehow, I know what I have to do. I know I can not sustain this, maybe another few weeks, maybe another few months or years, but long-term I simply can not. too much is broken, too many hurts have been done. I am not sure how to heal wounds that are still so fresh. Once healed, will the scars prevent me from ever loving or trusting him? How do I be the wife and let him be the husband? How do we make something work when we have spent so many years destroying what should have been so sacred? Do I even care? Do I want to?

You know I want a man who wants me, who wants my kids, who wants meaningful relationships with us, and loves us for who we are and not what we can do for them. I don’t think that is too much ask from a partner who I am?

Today, I awoke to find out the stinking VA shorted us a considerable amount of money in our paycheck this month and no one can even help me for a few days, Thats if the government doesn’t shut down. 

I have spent today in a fog of my own creation, wanting to cry or merely give up, but no, I just can’t give up, not when I have kids and responsibilities to manage. I am looking forward to sleep tonight, sleep always helps.