February 18, 2002, I left an abusive relationship, with my 5-year-old in tow.
I learned that people are generous. People came out of the woodwork to give me what they could to help. Couches, table, microwaves. One person even let us raid her garage full of yard sale items. Nothing in my one bedroom apartment matched. But it was my crap. Mine.
He wasn’t there.
I learned that people are kind. Like the landlord who let me move into that shit hole without a job or decent credit. Even though he turned on me when I left 2 years later to better quarters.
I listened to Good bye Earl by the Dixie Chicks every chance I got, only I would substitute the name Earl with his. My friend and I would sing it together, giggling at the idea of it. I admit, I was a bit of a man hater for a while.
I pumped my fists to the song Independence day by Martina McBride.
Let freedom ring, let the white dove sing
Let the whole world know that today is a day of reckoning
Let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong
Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay its Independence Day
February 18, 2013. It’s been 11 years. Longer than the relationship lasted, which was only 6 years. It seemed like an eternity at the time. I still go back in my dreams, make a visit. I am so gloriously happy when I wake up, and the knowledge slowly makes its way to reality.
He is not there.