Long before I began making collages with inspirational sayings …long before my husband came home and said he didn’t love me anymore…I was a practical woman with an extremely busy life. Five children, part time jobs, part time school, cooking and cleaning, religous school teaching, and driving here and there. The end of a marriage is not only very sad, but hurtful, and the main thing is; are you going to heal, or stay in some half-aware state of just existing?
I decided to heal, and boy have I worked hard at it…first of all exercising to keep the demons temporarily at bay, then a women’s support group, writing in a Gratitude Journal, dating (oy vey, dating as a single mother of 4 at home!!!). And doing crafts, and finally writing and doing more crafts.
For me the act of creating, whether with materials in a collage, which becomes the cover of a card or journal, or writing fiction…is such a tonic and a pacifier, and an exhilaration..that I can’t stop. And why should I? This is what’s been giving me pleasure. Oh okay, and eating chocolate too.
But you ask; what about love? Well, my boys love me, as I love them. My middle disabled son lives with me, tells jokes, laughs at lots of things- a laugh that invariably makes me smile, and my youngest was what saved me from marital breakup insanity. He needed me as whole as I could make myself, and so I did heal, because he needed me.
I also, along the way became a romantic, or maybe it was latent and given room to bloom. I found my way from reading mysteries to reading romance, and with their stories of love reciprocated, and always a happy ending…why shouldn’t I enjoy them more than random murders and who- done-it’s?
And so the title of this post, which appeared in a romance novel I’m re-reading. (Lisa Kleypas’ Seduce Me at Sunrise) On Page 275, a man asks his brother; is all well here? The question, the reader is told, also translates to; is there heart here?
Well in our new home in Davenport, Iowa, despite the burglary and the flooding of the basement, the frozen pipes and the piles of snow and sub-freezing weather for former North Carolinians to deal with–in this house there is heart, it’s just not shared between a woman and her mate. For this I’m a little sad, and momentarily filled with longing. Yet I must also acknowledge that to miss something you’ve never quite had, is an anomaly–my marriage did not fill our home with heart, I did, and there’s a big difference.
Single, white female living with adult disabled son who laughs a lot (especially to reruns of Reba on tv) who writes and creates and has big dreams…lives in a home with heart, and welcomes visitors!