Sitting on the beach today I snacked on Cracked Pepper and Olive Oil Triscuits dipped in Roasted Red Pepper Hummus. I think I burned more calories typing that, than I did in the consumption of the snack. It seems that everywhere I turn I hear people dressing up the sounds of their tastes. My mom used to wow us with English Muffin pizzas. Today they would be basil infused marinara reductions on toasted European sourdough muffins, encased in oven roasted mozzarella, garnished with hand-ground basil.
Somewhere along the line we have become a population of people who expect too much. When, as children, we had nothing, we seemed to have everything. A lover gone by once told me that I needed to reduce my expectations if I wanted to find true happiness. This kind of made me laugh because where material things are concerned I have no expectations. Sure, there are things that I value, things that I crave, and some that I adore. So I have carried his words with me and many times allowed them to echo through the hollows of my thoughts, hoping that they would leave at least a trace of wisdom behind.
Two weeks ago my 14 year old son told me that his father had asked for pictures for his birthday. During our marriage I was diligent in providing him with all of the classic, requisite birthday and school portraits, but when we divorced I took all of the photos. The family photos- the ones with all of the memories, mostly of happy and fun times. During the course of our proceedings as he took my house, my child, my money, and my dignity; he also tried to make me surrender all of the photos. When that didn't fly he tried to sue me to pay for making him copies of them all. He didn't win that battle either.
I remember sitting in court thinking that I had nothing else to lose to him, so please G!d, don't let him take this too. The bitterness behind this feeling was not based in jealousy, but in anger and hurt. The things that he did to my children, my family, and me were at times, abominable. How could he possibly think that he had the right to own photos of those times that went up in flames because of his behavior? How dare he not remember what we all gave for his career, as he swiped our lives out from under us? No, he didn't win that battle. My children's pictures were safe from the man who harmed them, and where they rightfully belonged.
A lot of time has passed and the wounds still smart a little when you touch them. Countless hours I spent scanning photos, dredging up memories, crying, and laughing. I didn't cry for what I didn't have- I am actually grateful for where I am now. I cried for what I lost. I lost a really big battle. Never in my life would I have dreamed that loving someone would be so hard, so much work, or hurt so much. But I believed that he needed what I had to give and I hoped that he would learn to trust my love.
You know, it's been so easy throughout these recent years, to remember all of the bad that went down. But scanning the past was a beautiful reminder of some good that also happened, which had been forgotten. It allowed me to honor him, in spite of the wrong, for what was right. This, regardless of all that happened, is his right.
It took me a little while to get here, but here is where I'm standing and everything looks just a little bit different now.
So as he blows out his candles and Jake is proud to give him his gifts, I am making my own quiet wish that he will find hope; that he will learn to trust love, and that he finds happiness. You know I thought about making my own cake to celebrate this victory of mine- perhaps a mocha laced cocoa rectangulaire confeit, drizzled in a chocolate ganache, garnished with glazed berries... but then I thought "how 'bout a bowl of popcorn?" After all, I got more than I ever expected and it's just a dessert.
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