Tra lala alla lalalaaaaaaaaaa
I'm going to a special showing of Madama Butterfly this evening with my husband. While I was thoroughly impressed that he knew the story line, M's not exactly happy about going. I mean, after all, it is opera. To be honest, I'm not that huge of a fan either, but I just want the distraction... the willing suspension of disbelief. Just not thinking. Not hurting.
Today, I received a random email from my ex husband. Every time I hear from him the wound just gets ripped open again. His son is 17 mos. old. He and his wife are planning another one soon. He asked when M. and I would finally have one.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to hurl things in my office. I wanted to scratch out my eyes.
Sigh.
I still don't understand. Why wasn't I good enough? Why is she?
I just want M. and I to have the happiness of hearing the patter of little feet. I want us to have to clean sticky jam handprints off the refrigerator and sing lullabies and kiss skinned knees.
You know. Perhaps Madama Butterfly wasn't the best option for the evening's entertainment.
posted by April @ 5:52 PM
5 comments
5 Comments:
I just found your blog and wanted to say, well, all those things that words can never really do justice. You're not alone. I love e.e.cummings too. I know how much it sucks to have a 25 day cycle hit you out of nowhere. I also know how much it sucks to have a 70 day cycle hit you out of nowhere. I hope...for everything you hope for, for both of us.
I'll be reading.
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You should consult your financial advisor.
Just touch it, i wil feel better if you just touch it, oh, and call me Donny.
Just touch it, you will feel better if you just touch it, oh, and call me Donny.
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