Are You Coming In?
being free of the world
I still have difficulty talking to my ex husband or even being in the same room with him, though we only see each other at family gatherings and random events.
The day after his wedding reception my youngest son said to me: I sometimes wonder in what world you and dad would talk to each other. After the Wedding
He said it wistfully—a grown man still wanting what all children want—parents reunited, no matter what they know about the marriage.
A few months ago I realized that in my heart of hearts I believed that if I spoke to my ex husband with any ease he would take that to mean I’d either forgotten or forgiven. I have no idea if that’s true but in any case it’s not healthy.
I’ve been divorced since 2000. A long sweep of time filled with hundreds of significant events—marriages, births, illnesses, deaths, and really so many joys—as well as a lot of healing, but the anger, no matter whether on the surface or underground still has a robust, aggressive energy that always surprises me. Apparently, part of me still wants to be angry.
Adventure & Advice
Two weeks ago I spent a day with my five year old grandson in Gloucester, MA. He and his mom and dad were staying in the basement apartment at my ex husband’s house to avoid the initial days of demolition prior to a kitchen renovation.
I pulled up and no one was outside. I realized that to find my son and grandson I might have to search the sprawling, airy house with a view of the estuary in the back and big vegetable garden in front. And once inside I’d have to speak to whoever else was there.
I walked in and the first person I saw was my grandson, the second was his grandfather.
How are you? Want something to drink? my ex asked. Where’s Nick? I answered. I’m not sure, he said. So I went outside and was relieved to see my son loading my car with food and water, towels and blankets, hats and sunscreen. My grandson ran out, hopped in and we were on our way.
First to the beach where we found shells and stones. He threw a lot of stones. Then to the enormous boulder rising like a small hill next to the beach. We explored paths that wound over and around it, and strayed off to rocky promontories with views of the ocean. The boy loves the very edges of rocky promontories! Nana not so much.
Then to a shady picnic table for lunch—to the nearby playground to swing and try rock wall climbing. Then to the Visitor Center where an elderly docent went on about points of interest that were of no interest to a five year old until she said “castle” and we both perked up. She directed us down the road to Hammond Castle, part Romanesque keep, part Gothic cathedral, part Renaissance château, built by the inventor, John Hays Hammond Jr.
Once there, my job was to avoid buying knightly accoutrements which the gift shop cleverly placed on shelves at a five year old’s eye level. He made a beeline to the plastic helmets. He put one on. It was too big. They were all too big.
But I’ll get bigger.
I grabbed a book off the shelf, lead him to a chair and read. It was a confusing book that seemed to insist dragons are real while citing myth and legend as supporting material. He listened patiently but at the end it was back to the shelves.
He held up a sword. You have a lot of swords, I said. But not this one, he answered.
I held firm (you can see where this is going) until he finds a little plane made of foam, that once assembled promises to SOAR. It doesn’t.
Next we go to the library. Air conditioning (finally), more reading, Legos, puzzles, and then… back to his grandfather’s house.
As he unbuckled his seat belt, he asked, Are you coming in?
I answered his question with my own. Do you want me to?
Yes, he said, if you come in, your son will be happy, and you will be happy. And that will be good.
So I did.
To be free in the world, you must be free of the world. Or your past decides for you and your future. ~Sri Nisargardatta
Epilogue
I said yes to my grandson but I wasn’t quite ready to be tested so I was relieved my daughter-in-law was the only one there to greet us. But I can’t avoid a five year old’s wise and innocent invitation. There are other choices that could indeed be good.
* Writer, essayist and poet. * Teacher on Insight Timer * Life coach helping people with challenging transitions. Schedule a free Discovery Session. * LinkedIn **My identities: older, white, cisgender woman of European immigrant descent; a mother of sons; grandmother, daughter, sister, friend, spiritual seeker, advocate for social justice and for this beloved, animate earth.
I'm touched by your honesty and your willingness to experience all of the joys and sorrows of the day.