I have to admit, the song came to mind first before anything else...and then the story developed from there...Enjoy!!
"You would not listen, you did not know how."
The variation on the classic words from Vincent by Don McLean are running through my head as I drive down the interstate. I took some liberties with the lyrics I know, but there is no one to mind, no one who cares. I don’t blame you, it simply is, and there is no going back now anyway.
Has it been twelve years already? Since we met and married on impulse, driving to Maryland on a cold and dreary Friday in March? It was raining that night I remember, and I was worried about how the pictures would turn out. Silly really, little girl nonsense.
We built a life, we built a home. Our sweetest conversations came not from our lips but from our bodies, we touched when there were no words to say.
The lost of our child built a wall of silence too deafening for our quiet whispers of pain. When I spoke of him, you simply turned your head and pretended not to hear.
Last night we slept in separate beds, in separate rooms, the dying remains of a love disappearing in the gray shadows of ash between us.
Now I drive away on another rainy afternoon in March from an unfamiliar courthouse where a stranger that I hadn’t invited in sat behind a bench and told me we are no longer married and I am no longer a wife.
I wonder what I will be tomorrow.