On The Lake

On the Lake

The days drift slowly by. One into the next as my circumstances continue to deteroriate and the Divorce drags on. More threats of being homeless or sheriffs coming here to force me out of another home I worked twenty years on—thinking that we would retire here.

"Your Divorced," he said violently pushing in the door—not we're Divorced only I am. I know now because he never considered himself married.

I was his slave, his maid, his whore—I was never his wife and everyone knew it. To be used and exploited and when the time came to be left homeless and with nothing. Completely broken—ultimate revenge fantasy of someone who plotted this from the start.

Its taken me the past three years to come to terms with these facts as I'm dragged through the Courtsystem here learning of the way my marriage was setup to ultimately destroy me.

I'm hoping to have a regular writing schedule again. I was thinking of posting from my iphone, but still love my Macbookpro. I am finding I can no longer write with my trusty pen and spiral-bound notebook. Odd, all those years I needed to write with my pen and paper, but now finally transitioned to the laptop—I can't go back.

Writing here has a certain resonance. Infusing the spaces that became so broken with the harmony of nature. Healing the wounds making the sounds of the birds, the small animals, even the breeze and rain seem like balm to my ravaged soul.

The other day I saw a small deer. I thought she was a baby, but out came two even smaller ones—tiny, tiny little ones. She came around from the back cove. I use to walk my first dog there. It was surrounded by these beautiful Pines. I use to pray, meditate there. The stillness was breathtaking, spiritual, peaceful. Over the years, it became blocked off as new neighbors moved in and more people had boats. It made me sad, but seeing her and her fawns gave me such joy and hope. The possibility of new things to come—to start once again. I went for a swim later and heard her—nestled in, safe and protected, enclosed. I wish that for her, for all of us, and for myself.

My home had been my refuge. As I come to terms with the destruction of it, the rebuilding of another and the faith to do it again. I need to believe once again it is possible. Strong in the broken places where the belief in that safe place had been destroyed.


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