Six hundred kilometers stretch between where I am and where I am headed. A week ago I drove those kilometers willingly, shedding a little of the every day stress, everyday sorrow, and every day realities as I went. Tomorrow I will retrace my steps as I head back home.
And along the way, pick up everything I so willingly cast off.
Its the same every time.
Getting away is nice. Being able, even for just a few days, to not be the only one. To forget I am the only one. To let someone else cook. Just once. To let someone else answer Gavin's call. Just once. To sit on the couch after he goes to bed and have a real conversation about real issues. To hear another adult voice coming from a real person.
To feel a little less isolated. A little less alone.
But the problem about going away is you can't go away forever. Eventually you have to return. And when you do, those things that seemed hard become even more difficult. Unbearable even. Until I breathe, accept, and adjust. And start all over again.
On my own.
Its the same every time....
It never gets easier pulling up to a dark, empty house. Walking in alone. You get used to it. You do it because you have to. But anyone who says it must get easier has a family to come home to. Someone waiting for them, or someone with them....
I tried to tell my parents today what it felt like. To talk - because that's something else I never get the opportunity to do. My mom's response was to "look on the bright side. At least you have Gavin." And I know she's not the only one thinking it. Which further proves that she - and so many others out there - don't know what its like to be really alone. Gavin cannot give me what my husband provided. He cannot fill that space in the house. It would be unfair to ask him to try. And impossible to do. I "look on the bright side" daily - even if it doesn't seem like it. Its that bright side that wills me to get up every morning and face another day. But when one light bulb permanently burns out, the room is forever dimmed, even in its brightest moments. There are always shadows....
And so I will drive that road tomorrow, returning to my reality. Gavin will be in the back seat, but I will be going it alone. No co-pilot, just a passenger. And with every turn of the odometer I will pick back up a little of that burden, for that is the price I pay to have a bright side at all. And I do so willingly. But not happily.
In reality, the next six hundred kilometers are easy to travel. Its the road that awaits me at the other end - the one that stretches out beyond that I dread...
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