I had finally gotten a call back from an interview for a second interview only to realize I didn’t have another “work professional” outfit other than my one grey dress. So there I was, out in the dark racing closing time to find something cheap and usable in the next hour for tomorrow’s early morning appointment.
One of the perks of being in the dark… you can see the stars. Tonight was odd, the sky was black but no stars were out to be seen. The humidity seemed to be playing tricks on the sky, tossing up random fluff bank blankets to play peekaboo with, and tonight was one of those nights. For a moment, though, or maybe only half a moment, I saw a small light streak ever so slightly through the darkness, clear and bright as if the night was a curtain to the next day and the light had found a forgotten tear to pierce through.
I wished… nothing. I didn’t believe in wishes anymore… and, even if I had, I hadn’t been quick enough. But I then wished for healing anyways, because that’s how hopes start, and then I prayed for healing, because that’s how the work starts.
Never pray for anything you aren’t ready to receive.
I hadn’t prayed for myself in a long time. The thought terrified me. I felt like I was struggling through each day but making it. I didn’t want to jeopardize that by asking to be in a better place and then being required to take the opportunities thrown at me to get to progress when I was still fighting for the success of surviving the daily heartbreak. But now I’d gone and done it.
The next day, while my children video-chatted with their dad, he dropped the name of some mysterious five year old girl like they should know who she was. He tried to equate her with them, create a connection of mutual experience, he was prepping them, and most certainly get under my skin, I’m sure. The children had no idea who this mystery girl was… the age gap, though, fits with so many things involved with the descent of our marriage into hell and I can’t help but wonder if they might be related.
The analysis was secondary to the reaction of his introduction of the kids to a half-sibling or step-sibling by a random name drop over video-chat. The analysis was running in the back of my mind while I made dinner. I focused on the pans, on the stirring, on the turning, on the browning, and on the serving, all while the emotions roiled closer and closer to the surface as the back of my mind got louder during the evening.
I had prayed for healing and this was the form it was taking. I had been missing the man I had married, the man he had been before… he turned into the downward spiral. My daughter’s refusal to speak to her father over video or telephone had triggered an onset of dreams about the man he had been and how that man would be treating his family current day if he still existed. I had been waking up missing this marital corpse for a week.
That star that had cut through the night sky brought about the severing of that reminiscent spirit, that blade that had cut through the night’s curtain in to tomorrow’s light had cut out that small yet insistent part of my heart. That’s the thing about infection, though, when it gets bad, sometimes that part needs to be taken out in order for what’s left of the whole to heal.
I had wished for the result and I had prayed for the work.
Now I had no choice but to grow out of the pain in to healing.