Sad Flowers - 10thDoM The Language of Bouquets

There are some days when I look at the online newspaper of the city I lived in for 10 years, and my stomach cramps. There are parts of me that long to be there, that miss my house, my friends, my gym, my comfortable life. I still own a house there. I can't get rid of it.

There are days when I think of the drive between my house and my kids' school. The drive that took me through some of the least desirable parts of town and where I passed a strip club, open, with cars in the lot, at 7:45 am... On a Tuesday. And I miss even that drive.

I miss being married, in a marital relationship, in a comfort zone of knowing when and where the next paycheck was coming from. I don't miss when he was home. There were more times when I felt like a stranger in my own house when he was there than I felt comfortable. The comfort was in his absence. Thankfully, he was absent a lot. Sadly, it was not enough.

There are days when I romanticize the tumultuous, horrible relationship I got into after I left one bad situation. I went from very bad to worse than I could have ever imagined. But he was so beautiful. And caring, and thoughtful, and kind, and he was my friend and confidante... Until he wasn't.

There are days that I wake up in the same room I spent 14 of my earliest years and wonder if I should have just stuck it out, if the comfort was worth the apathy, the passive-aggressive put downs, the lack of love, the sadness. He was happy, he said. He shed tears.

I miss the times before we married. Before he told me he didn't love me and wanted a divorce... On our honeymoon. Before he refused to be my shoulder when my mom died or ever thereafter even after begging... For 6 years. Before he told me he hated basically everything I loved... Which were the things he loved about me before he "owned" me.

There are days I remember our Olive Garden Fridays. Always the same Olive Garden. Always the same hostess. Always the same mispronunciation of our last name, Payton, not Patton. Where we would talk and laugh and plan our lives and how we would grow old and be together forever. Before he let me know he thought I would change if I married him.

There are days I remember the diamond heart necklace on our first Valentine's Day. He came up behind me and put it on me as I was talking to my roommates. They thought I was so lucky. And then I remember the first flowers I ever got on Mother's Day, my 7th Mother's Day. The Mother's Day after I told him I was leaving. He didn't even know what kind of flowers I like. But at least they weren't pink roses.