Stop me if this sounds crazy, but we might be getting our lives back.
RR will be five in June and the last time I felt like Debra and I were distinct people with lives that were entwined rather than utterly melded was sometime in the summer of 2009. In fact, let’s go ahead and consider our move to this place in 2008 the marker.
It’s not that I don’t love the melding. We have been in sync (I think, at least as much as two different people trying to potty train another person can be) and in sync feels solid and predictable. I know that she will always have a smile. I know that she will cook dinner when I don’t want to. I know that we agree on bedtime and baths. We go on family walks and have family suppers and have family dance parties. We go to gymnastics together and swim lessons; we carpool to work together and sit together in meetings. Our lives have run together in a blue and yellow make green kind of way. We are all green.
But lately I’m catching glimpses of yellow again. She has a new music partner. She’s composing and playing. I’m hearing new music for the first time in at least two years, probably six. She’s out of the house for a music class, to practice, to meet friends. And by seeing her yellow, I can see my own blue again. For example, I have this moment to write to you. And I’m feeling less concerned about going to meditation on a Tuesday night or trying a class at the gym. Those things have felt inarguably selfish, regardless of what Debra had to say about it. The things I love about her are those yellow things. The things I love about myself are the blue things, the solitary things, the challenging, individual things.
I don’t feel like anything was lost even though it feels like I’m getting something wonderful back. But I can see with great clarity how we have been leaning heavily on our strong relationship in order to thrive. And that’s good. And I’m glad. But I like the distinct threads as much as I like the green rope.