The Open Door

As the front door closed behind him, I turned and looked around the room … tables and lamps were cluttered in the corner, pillows were haphazardly tossed on the couch, a stack of books was leaning precariously against the wall. I walked into the bedroom and gazed at the unmade bed, the littered dresser, the scattered boxes. A few more steps and I saw the array of toiletries strewn across the bathroom counter, a hand towel carelessly hung on the rack.

Slowly I wandered back to the living room, then stopped. For several minutes I just stared at the closed front door. Then slowly, but deliberately, I eased myself into a nearby rocking chair.

It had all started about a year before. No, that’s not really accurate. It had started farther back than that, but the actual thought that had grown into action had crystallized some 12 to 18 months ago.

We were young when we got married. Me shamefully pregnant, him shaky and uncertain, and both of us scared silly because the divorce ending his first, but very brief, marriage wasn’t yet final. But he wanted to “do the right thing,” so we headed to Mexico one cloudy February afternoon. He had an uncle who lived in San Diego and we stayed the night with him. Early the next morning he drove us over the border into Tijuana.

After stopping at several dirty storefronts, his uncle seemed to locate what he was looking for and he motioned for us to follow him. We were soon standing like two terrified children in front of an old Mexican man who was wearing an ill-fitting suit with a spot on his tie. He greeted us in broken English and beamed approvingly as he said, “Ahhh, you een love. You marry. Bueno!” He pulled a small frayed book out of his coat pocket, opened it, and rapidly rattled off some words in his native tongue. Then he gave us a yellowed grin, waved his arms at us and said, “Kees the bride now. Si, kees the bride.”

It was over in minutes.

Was I in love? I thought I was. And for the next 15 years, I held onto that thought. But sometime during those years, things began to change. The urgency to make love became less and less, the bonding between us began to weaken, and our paths began to go in different directions. By the 16th year, my hold on the thought had become exceedingly fragile. Other ideas, plans, dreams were pushing and shoving to take its place.

Then one day, I realized it was gone.

Over the next year, I spent a lot of time considering what to do. Even without love there is a certain comfort in being married, especially when you have been together for a long time. You get used to the warm body in bed at night, the familiar face across the dinner table, even the dirty socks and wet towels on the floor. But finally, after many months of soul-searching, I knew the decision I had to make.

The break-up was uneventful. I think we both knew it was coming so we spent little time discussing options. Soon, the hour came for the physical separation. I had found a small apartment and he helped me move. An awkward plan perhaps, but practical.

As we set down the last few boxes and small articles, I thanked him for his help. We searched each other’s face and a whisper of familiarity passed between us. As if in silent agreement, we moved towards each other for one final hug. Then he released me, quickly turned and walked out the door.

A short time later as I sat in the rocking chair, a frightening, yet pleasant, emotion washed over me. It made my heart contract and brought a chill to my body. It only lasted an instant, but it was a feeling I had never experienced before and have not felt since. I knew right away that something remarkable had taken place.

I looked again at the closed door, but this time I knew that one day very soon it would open … and I would be ready to walk through it.

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Another “oldie” with a few minor tweaks to bring it up-to-date. 🙂

Nothing Exciting Ever Happens

Nothing exciting ever happens to me. Once, I fell from a horse and he, in turn, fell on me, but all I received was a fractured hip. I never even got to wear a cast. I rode in many horse shows when I was young, but I never won a first. Lots of seconds. No first. I had a skinny boyfriend once who was a jockey. I often dreamed how exciting it would be to be married to someone who moved from race to race. But one day he disappeared and I’ve never seen him since.

I swam a lot when I was young. My mother was a swimming instructor and lifeguard so I spent all day at the pool during the summer. Almost everyday a swimmer would get choked and have to be pulled out of the pool. I never even swallowed any water. I swam in a few swimming meets, but I never won any of the races. One time, I was in a distance swimming race. I completed one lap of the pool and developed cramps in my legs and had to get out.

My grandparents lived in the country and when we were just kids, my cousin and I would spend two or three weeks with them every summer. We had a great time building forts down by the creek, riding horses across the hills, playing in the hay loft, but nothing exciting every happened. One summer we set up a Koolaid stand by the road and sold it for 5 cents a glass. There wasn’t much traffic out there and we only made 50 cents. One day when we were playing, I got a big sliver in my foot. It was 3 inches long … almost. My grandmother pulled it out right away. It didn’t even stay sore long enough for me to limp.

I played the accordion a little when I was young. Two other girls and I often played together as a trio. We were asked to play at several different places. But, as we grew older, we drifted apart. Who knows how famous we could have been? I played the piano, too. My mother also played and one time we played a two-piano arrangement for a special program. Everybody said it was really good. But we were never asked to play anywhere else.

When I was in junior high school (now “middle school”), my mother and father divorced and this should have been a climactic point in my life, but there wasn’t even any argument over who got custody of me. I simply stayed with Mom and saw Dad on the weekends. When I was about 14 years old, I developed a crush on a rodeo clown. He was 23. I could hardly wait to grow up so he would notice me. About a year later, he got killed by a Brahma bull in a rodeo. One day in school, a boy spit in my face. He didn’t like me. My girlfriend and I entered a talent contest when we were in junior high school. We played our ukuleles and sang. We were really bringing the house down when they pulled the curtain on us. They said our act was too long. We didn’t win.

I was in several plays when I was in high school. I liked my dramatics class. I never got to play the lead, though. Once, I almost was chosen as lead. A girlfriend and I both tried out and the teacher couldn’t decide who was best. So she had us try out in front of some other teachers that she asked to help her decide. I lost. I ran for a few offices while I was in high school, but I never was elected to any of them. One time, when I was a junior, I was going to run for student body yell-leader (now “cheerleader”) with a freshman boy and a sophomore boy. I was sure this was the perfect combination. We would each pull votes from our respective classes. It didn’t ever pan out. The freshman’s grades weren’t good enough and the sophomore boy got killed in an automobile accident. Almost all of the girls that I ran around with in high school got married shortly after they got out of school, divorced, and are on their second marriages. I didn’t get married for about three years after graduation and I’m still married to the same guy.

On our first vacation, my husband and I went deep-sea fishing. I was seven months pregnant. I’d never been before and the first day we were out, I got sea-sick. The second day, I felt fine and pulled in the biggest fish on the boat. I entered it in a local contest that was being held to determine the largest fish caught. I lost. A fish that out-weighed mine had already been registered earlier that same day.  Not too long after that, my husband was in the hospital after having his tonsils removed. I went to visit him on my lunch hour and I fainted. I think it was because I was nervous and hadn’t had any lunch. I got kidded about it later. One summer I was outside working in the yard and a bee got into my hair. I got a little excited. In the process, I stepped on a three-pronged garden tool. My neighbor taped the skin together, so I didn’t even get to have any stitches. The only time I’ve been in a hospital overnight is when my children were born. I even escaped most of the childhood diseases until I was in my twenties. Then I got the mumps and about a year later, I got chicken-pox.

Nothing exciting ever happens to me. Maybe someday I’ll get kidnapped or I’ll win a big contest or I’ll get marooned on a desert island. Then maybe I’ll be able to write a novel on my exciting experiences.

NOTE: This was written while I was attending community college … quite some time ago!