Broken But Whole

Photo by Feyza Daştan

“I’ve been thinking about what I said about not being able to love you the way you love me.  I can’t love anyone like that and I hope that makes you feel better.”

“I don’t care about feelings anymore.  But I am glad that you are feeling better.”  We are still separating.

He thought they’d stay together.  She was not the person he wanted her to be.

Later, he yelled at her.  She declined to yell back this time and imagined her own place, smiling.  No one would yell at her there.  Ever.

Life opened to life.  She grasped it.

He talks to me

Photo by Photo by Samer Daboul

He talks to me. I speak back. He starts tearing me down by raising his voice and when I try to break in and ask why he is yelling at me, he says it’s because I’m not getting the point and I doubled down. But if I were a workmate or a friend who did the same, he would not speak to me in this manner.

Why?

I misspoke.  I tried to correct that, but it was doubling down, which is why I don’t understand why he didn’t calmly explain that.  I tried to break in and correct myself and stop him from seemingly attacking me, I said two words, he snapped his fingers in the air, said “there” and quit talking to me.  Chat over.

It makes me feel like he doesn’t like me.

 

The Recapturing

Photo by Photo by The Glorious Studio

(Prompt: Thumbholes)

Kaylie pushed through the thumbholes of her cardigan, hugging herself tightly.  The chill in the autumn afternoon reminded her of the day Cal proposed.  Now he was gone.  Nothing seemed right.  And she was lost without him.  The chill matched the coldness of his stiff ashen body at the funeral.  Recapturing the rhythm of life without him took time. Yet the ring on her hand still sparkled with hope.  He’d wanted her to move on, to find love again.  She intended that, but not as he’d imagined.  Her art would hang in galleries again.  The light in the darkness.  Hope.
 

The five words I really dislike

 

Photo by Asi Si

He packed up everything he owned leaving little empty spaces around their home. 

“It's not you, it's me.”

A Lover's Touch

 

Photo by www.kaboompics.com

A gentle touch on your knee when I check on you in the morning because you're late getting out of bed. 

“What?” You are terse. 

Has it been that long since we found each other in this world that you now bristle at my touch?

Story Seedling - regarding loss of wife and a new beginning

 

Photo by Megapixelstock

June 14, 2024, I stopped thinking about her.  I stood in front of the mirrored window of a travel agency in downtown San Francisco with the urge to travel to Paris, France stuck in me like a colored tack on a wall map, and I realized that I would leave behind everyone and everything I knew--but not just for a two-week escape. The end of years of feeling lost and anchorless in a world without my wife ended then and there. Destiny and I greeted in a clasping embrace and endless possibilities paved a path into the future, a future that I intuited in the moment as hope-filled and infused with joy and promise.  I could be anything and anyone.  A new me was in the birth canal of my awakening consciousness.

My family welcomed my planned adventure as if they’d received news that I would be returning from the dead. Utter shock slowly gave way to unrepressed jubilation. They cheered!  Hugs, slaps on the back, impromptu toasts with cans of Coke knocked together, followed by tears on the cheeks of my mother and older sister.

“I’m so happy for you,” Kaelyn said in my ear as she hugged me tight around the neck and shoulder. “This is a good sign, Darin.  This is a very good sign!”

“Has it been so bad?” I asked.

“It’s been too long since we’ve seen you smile. This is going to be a very good thing for you. I can feel it.”

Mom broke in. “Let me hug my baby!” She hugged me tightly. “You’ll always be my baby. I’ll always worry over you, Darin, but now I know you’re going to be all right.”  

I squinted, pinching back tears.

“Boy,” Dad said, placing his hand on my shoulder.  He didn’t need to say more.  The proud look in his eyes said it all.

“Has it really been that bad?” I asked them all.

“You’ve never been the same since . . . “ Mom said.

I relented.  “I know.” 

 We all turned our focus on preparations for a spontaneous celebration, a bon voyage, with a barbecue, music, and plentiful conversation punctuated by much laughter.  I’d missed that.  Too often being around family hurt.  Everything hurt.  More and more I had spent my time alone, living unencumbered by a new relationship or even a pet, free to live out my days adrift without emotional responsibility to anyone else.  It was true.  I had died.

Wedded Bliss

Photo by Valeria Boltneva 

(Prompt: What foulness am I going to be consuming?)

Freshly baked bread and simmering soup aromatically filled their home. Marzi whipped chocolate mousse, humming. Frank would arrive soon. She wanted perfection.

“Honey!” She gave him a passionate hug that he barely returned. Gone was the love. Today she felt his abject rejection even more.

Frank called for his dog for whom he always showed the deepest affection.

“I made you something special for dinner.”

"What foulness am I going to be consuming?"

Deeply wounded, Marzi said. “I'm leaving you Frank.”

He searched for his dog, ignoring her.

She smiled wickedly at the pot as she left. “Enjoy your soup.”