jeudi, le 24 décembre 2009
Last night I sat outside under the palm where L’homme used to sit for hours. I wondered where he was, I wondered what he was thinking, I wondered what he used to think all those hours he spent sitting under the palm.
I burst into tears because, in spite of everything, I missed L’homme, because I was sad for My Witty Friend, I was sad for The Jeweller - her mother passed away the day we held a memorial service for My Witty Friend’s husband. The Jeweller didn’t make it back in time to see her mother one last time. She passed away while they were at the airport.
Then I reminded myself that there is no point in being sad over L’homme. He never really cared, he lacked compassion, he lacked understanding and more than anything, he lacked the ability to commit to our relationship through thick and thin. When not even the alcohol could compensate for all the lacking, he turned nasty, mean and malicious.
I sighed, I wiped my tears, I looked up at the stars, I sent comforting, supportive whishes to My Witty Friend and The Jeweller, I went inside, I put on some happy music and started to make my house pretty for Christmas Eve dinner.
(The story in the photograph: The Princess,to my absolute delight, loved the beach. I wonder what she was thinking as she stared out over the largest body of water she had ever seen.)
Posted by Rispa Frances at 11:23