this week in history

This week is full of anniversaries, ghosts and memories.

Twenty-four years ago today, I had my first date with Wasband.  That was, of course, a good thing . . . back then.  Today, that memory kind of sticks in my throat.  It sticks like a sickly, overly sweet cookie bar . . . the kind that gags you with sweetness.  The one that you know is going to sit in your stomach and you're really going to wish you hadn't eaten it.

Historical House

Twelve months ago today I called a lawyer and said, "It's time.  We'll file after the first of the year."  I did not realize the coincidence in dates until just now.

From there on, the anniversaries of this week will get worse . . . all from last year.  The day Wasband raged in the basement calling me a "f'ing bitch," loud enough that the children could hear.  The day Eldest was hospitalized with a seven-day migraine, that day Wasband accidentally discovered I wanted a divorce.  (I have a feeling I will write out that story later this week.)  The day Wasband stood outside the guest bedroom door (and also Eldest's bedroom door) and said things no father should ever say.  This coming Friday will be one-year since the day Wasband packed his things and tried to leave without being discovered.  He tried to move out without sitting down with me and telling the girls we were splitting.  Instead, Eldest discovered him rummaging in the liquor cabinet, suitcase next to him, guilty look on his face.

Future house

So this week in history, is not the best week of my personal history.  Nonetheless, I am happy this year.  I am in a good place.  I have discovered love again (and yes, that is another post, isn't it?)  I feel like celebrating the holiday season this year.  And I haven't felt like celebrating since about 2007 . . . maybe 2006.

While the history of this week may not be full of warm fuzzies, the present is good and I'm sure the future will be even better.