Two Rivers

Sometimes two different things can be from two faraway places and still somehow find a way to join together.  Beginning existence in one place, and enduring all the twists and turns and falls until finally merging with another and starting it all over again from there. 

I remember that boy I met on the beach all those years ago, his wavy black hair matching his dark penetrating stare.  We walked together in the sand, two shy teenagers holding hands.  You were so different from any man I had ever known.  You were different from my father the cheater, different from my neighbor the child molester, different from my first and only boyfriend before you.  I knew the first time I looked in your eyes that you would never do the things that they did to me.  I knew you wouldn’t hurt me like they did.

Those were the days I let myself imagine the future.  I let myself hope.  The boy next door, the high school football star, the man every mother wants their daughter to marry, that is you.  And I truly believed I’d marry you one day.  I didn’t know what deep passionate love was back then.  I just wanted someone who wouldn’t hurt me the way I had been hurt.  In the beginning, I trusted you would never hurt me.

Here we are, 18 years and two kids later.  I’m sitting here at my favorite spot, the confluence of the James and Appomattox rivers.  I sit here a lot, thinking about the rivers that start in different places.  I think about the twists and turns and falls they take before joining together.  I think about what a historical place I am sitting in and how it must have looked 400 years ago.  I think about all the bullets and bodies that have been replaced by bridges and buildings.  I also think about my life, the twists and turns and falls I have taken to end up where I am.  I think about the people who have come and gone from my life, and the ones who have come and stayed.  I sit here, I watch the water, and I write.  Right now, you have the kids, and a hangover.

I’m thinking about you because you left your hoodie in my car and I was cold so I am grateful it was there.  But now I smell like you. 

I am grateful for other things too.  I am grateful for the kids.  They are the best things we have ever done.  I am grateful you and I never did get married.  Though we have had many fun times together and there were moments over the years where I felt like you were my only friend, I just can’t forget or forgive the bruises and all the many tears that came back again and again.

Sometimes I wonder if going back to what I know is my destiny.  Our lives merged a long time ago and will always flow the same direction because of our children.  Maybe the only thing that makes sense is you and me.  I can live without love.  I want to live without love.  I push and I push and I push love away.  Perhaps I should give you another chance.  I have learned over the past few years that I cannot very well handle a broken heart, but you and I both know that I sure as hell can take a punch.