Six Years On

It’s been six years since I packed my things.
I promised to keep in touch
I swore I loved you
Told you I just needed a little space to remind myself
How good you were to me
And that once I had sorted out my shit
We’d be a family again.

Of all the lies I’ve ever told
That one stuck in my throat the hardest.
I knew I wasn’t coming back, and I think you knew it, too.
But you let me walk out without resistance
(which, knowing you, was remarkable)

I kept up the guise of working through our issues
Until I got a lawyer
And you finally figured out that I wasn’t coming back.
I’ve never been so scared.
The drive-bys, the phone calls, the thinly-veiled threats
Were almost worse than the bruises
At least, they were a lot less predictable.

Everyone seemed to think that since I was “free”
Everything was suddenly alright
My moral support vanished
I spent my nights alone, missing you
Though I knew I shouldn’t
And wishing it could have been some other way.

Looking back, I almost don’t recognise
The frightened young woman
Jumping at her own shadow and
Spooked at the smallest sound.

Six years have helped me ease some fears
Though the terror of losing our daughter remains
Threats etched in my memory are not easily erased.
But now
I don’t look over my shoulder constantly
Though I do still keep my doors locked
And I moved every three years so you couldn’t find me.
One day I hope to stop running
Settle down and really build my life
I’m putting down some roots and starting to blossom

But then a cold wind blows and I’m reminded
Of your chilly demeanour and soulless eyes
And no matter how much wood I put on the fire
I just can’t warm my bones.

© T. Kalau 2013

I Think I’m A Grown Up Now

It’s official : I’m in debt a quarter million dollars. Normally, being even $100 in debt would cause me to freak out. Not this time. Why?

I bought a house.

Yep, it’s official – I’m a homeowner. I take possession June 15th.

I’m a little scared, a lot excited, and really, really proud of myself.

It’s not every day that you see a single mom buy a house on her own, with no co-signer, before the age of 30. (Not to toot my own horn, but BEEP BEEP).

I never planned on this – I wanted to find a nice guy, get married, buy a house, have babies, and live happily ever after. I’ve finally reached the point where I am okay with having my baby and my house and living happily ever after on my own. It’s liberating to realise that everything about this house, this life… it’s all mine. No compromising. 100% how **I** want it.

I couldn’t be happier.

BUT.

Now I get to spend the next month packing and checking paint swatches and de-cluttering and cleaning and allllll that fun moving stuff. *groan*