I am alone, blissfully alone. My home is filled with fresh cut flowers - gifts to myself. I write from an empty, oversized bed. It is plush, and cozy, and lovely here.
My bedroom is my favorite room in the house. It is spacious, and whimsical, and oh so inspiring. Tall ceilings and a spiral staircase lead to an open loft accentuated in skylights. This is my creative space. My sewing machine is here and mounds and mounds of faux fur. And fabric that stretches and bounces and sparkles. And paintbrushes and paints, and books on painting, and sketching, and etching. And beads! Tiny, grains of honed, semi-precious stones. And baubles that only make sense to me.
In front of me is a deck dotted in pansies, and tulips, and ivy, and all things spring. I have a new, turquoise blue, patio umbrella. My old one was brown. Now, no matter what the forecast, I am guaranteed a brilliant, blue sky.
Just beyond my deck is a willowy old riverbed and thanks to April showers, it is fed, at full force, by a magnificent waterfall - a steady source of relaxation and rejuvenation.
For the first time in my life I am without a man - without my father, without my son, and without a husband.
I am untethered.
I am fueled by three little words... I am done.
From the moment I released those words, nothing else mattered. Not what he did or didn't do, not the pain, or the disappointment, or the rage, or the regrets.
I am no longer the victim. I am the victor.
There are a few things missing. Things that had nothing to do with me. Things that were gently used - golf clubs, tennis rackets, guitars, mounds of baseball caps and unscuffed sneakers.
Weird stuff is missing too. Gone are all the secrets, those dirty little secrets.
I gave away my television and the desktop computer that was the catalyst for much of our demise. My noise of choice is now music. Today it's a funky, jazz, techno beat that syncs with the sizzle of a gentle rain.
I am focused on me - on me being healthy and happy.
I like pulp in fresh squeezed orange juice.
I like lime green vases bursting with white hydrangeas.
I like wearing bedroom slippers.
I like who I choose to spend time with.
I like where I live.
I like what I do.
I really like my new, turquoise blue umbrella.
I like me.