Lately, the reality that the man I have known since the age of 15, married to for 13 years and have two children with has never even seen where I live has seemed a little surreal.
To think that this person that has so much significance in our lives has no idea what our day to day looks like… well- to be honest, it has had me feeling a little bit sad.
I have lived here for six months, and we have now established some roots. I know where items are located on the grocery store shelves. The girls love their school. GG is in soccer. Belle is in tennis. They have a good connection with the neighborhood kids, and are making friends with other kids in their classes. They are starting to accept Georgia as home, and Michigan as a place where they are from.
And through it all, M has no idea what this “looks” like.
It’s not that I am looking for his (or anyone’s) approval. There is this sense of liberation that surrounds me when I realize that along with the challenges, the reality is that this is my house, and I make the decisions that go along with that ownership. So no, you don’t have to like my decor, the gray paint that will someday be on the walls, or the white sectional. All you have to do is realize that these are my decisions, and I own them.
But all of that changed over Labor Day weekend. M and his parents (or, more specifically, my ex-husband and now ex- in-laws) came to Georgia to visit.
And overall, I have to say it was great.
It’s not that there wasn’t anxiety over this. To have the man that used to be my husband now coming as a visitor was weird, for sure. But putting ourselves to the side, we both knew how important it was to make it un-weird for the girls’ sake. One big happy broken family, right?
Yep- that about sums it up.
Friday, the girls and I went to pick M up at the airport. They were so excited I could barely get the car in park before they threw open the door and ran out to meet him. It was evident how much they missed him. I sat patiently in the car- this was their moment to reconnect. But after they all piled back in, it was as comfortable as could be.
We arrived at the house, and giving M the home tour was again, surreal (maybe it should be some sort of game on how many times I can use the word “surreal” in this post.) And to answer your next question, yes, he stayed at the house. M and I have had this unsaid agreement since the moment the word “divorce” was uttered- it’s no longer about us, it’s all about the kids. And that has remained true every moment since. With that in mind, I would have hated for him to waste any amount of time traveling back and forth to a hotel, missing the early morning schmuggle time, or being there to kiss the girls goodnight. So yes, the play room became his home away from home for the weekend.
The next day was the family birthday party we had for the girls. We do this every year as the girls birthdays are only 7 weeks apart. All morning we were working together to get the house ready; I was cooking in the kitchen, M helped clean up. I wrapped the girls gifts, M went out for ice and beer. After he returned, M poured us both a cold beverage and we sat and watched the first part of the Michigan game. It was so relaxed, so comfortable, it could have been any Saturday in our house years ago….
But it wasn’t.
Soon after, M’s parents arrived. They had made the drive from Michigan to help celebrate the girls’ birthday. Yes, it was tense at first, but soon we all relaxed a little and easily fell into our rhythm. Not long after the rest of the family came over- Italian dinner for 12 in my little house. Through it all, M and I kept sneaking glances at each other during the party; the unsaid conversation going on with each look, the inside jokes, the sarcastic remarks that we knew each other was making internally… the love we both felt for each of our girls as we watched them open gifts and blow out the candles on their birthday cake. Divorce does not take any of that away- not unless you let it.
The rest of the weekend went pretty much the same way. M and I feel into that easy rhythm that we have when we are together. He made coffee first thing in the morning, and had my cup ready before I got out of bed. I made him lunch before he even asked for it. We parented the kids together. And the reality is- I really missed it. I missed having someone else there to help. I missed that easy, comfortable feeling of hanging out on the couch after the kids have gone to bed- sharing some wine, and making witty commentary about a favorite program on TV.
The beauty of our relationship is that both M and I admitted that we missed this- but in that same breath realize that doesn’t mean that we were meant to be married. Being comfortable and easy does not make a marriage; there needs to be that spark, that passion… the sharing of same interests and desires, the acceptance of who each of you are as individuals that creates the foundation and helps drive a marriage. Once upon a time we used to be that, but no longer. Staying married only prohibits us from finding that again with the person that we are truly meant to be with. M is- and always will be- one of my best friends. He knows me, all of me, in a way that really no one else does. He cheered me on from the sidelines during my 5k Saturday and afterward said how proud he was of me. He remains my voice of reason when I feel things are getting out of control. He has been supportive of my career when other men would have been intimidated by a woman with professional aspirations. And while it may be hard to understand, through it all this doesn’t make him my husband.
This makes him my friend.
And for that, I will always be thankful.
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