I Count Myself as Lucky

I have this great and terrible fear. It hits me when I least expect it—at work, or while I’m cleaning, when I’m baking, when I’m reading. Nothing is amiss, yet in one fell swoop I’m overtaken by a moment of clairvoyant vision. I look forward on the years ahead, knowing that someday, I will meet someone. He’ll be important, and beautiful, and in the ways that matter to everyone else, he’ll be perfect. So I’ll smile, and count myself lucky, and let him love me. The world will fall into a subtle harmony. I shall not want for comfort, or affection, or respect, or attention. I will count myself lucky.

And the best laid plans will go according to plan. Nothing out of place, nothing scary, nothing unexpected. I’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, we’ll be fine.

I’ll know, with every sinew and bone in my exhausted body, that I've found the one I’ll be with forever, if only because I know it’s what he wants. But I’ll be happy! I’ll be happy enough to sleep at night, most nights, but not every night. At times, I’ll wake up with a nightmare clawing at my brain, taking hold, making noise and digging in. I’ll reach out my hand, palm stretched, fingers open—but he won’t be there. He’ll be there, but not him. Never him. And that’s okay, I’ll tell myself through the night visions, the tossy-turnies, the midnight wake-ups. He wasn't great at comfort anyway.

But in the waking hours, when the night is gone, I’ll count myself lucky. Surrounded by my love, and my kids, and the life we've built together. I’ll remind myself that I am the winner—I have a family, and a world that is not just mine. I won. He’ll never be the victor, because I’m the one who came out on top. He hasn't found a person to hold him at night, and if he has it was for one night. Does he have sticky hands and sweet baby cheeks to sing to, to love on, to remind him that he’s done it right? Because I will. All the countless hours spent holding them close and smiling at him, and staying up to keep them safe and to make the nightmares they inherited from their mother dissipate with kisses and stories.  Those will be my trophies, my proof of the battle being won, of besting him with my dreams come true. I’ll be all aglow with marital bliss and plastered on smiles, and genuine joy because my little ones are climbing up and up onto the tippy top of my heart.

Everything will come tumbling down one day—in the minutest of ways. I’ll find out, casually because no one will mean to hurt me, that he is happy. He found a girl, a girl with blonde hair, a girl with big happy eyes and a hint of mystery in her smile, a girl with long legs and a soft smart mouth. He finally chose, finally found a reason to stay still. A reason to stop running. A reason to let the castle walls fall with a vengeance, and a reason to change. A ton of bricks will fall right on me, crushing me and pinning me. The bricks catch my breath as it runs away from my body. I’ll just lay on the floor, the chaos turning to dust around me, spiraling back to the way I once felt. All the thoughts, all the feelings. It’s time for dinner, so I go through the motions. Smile at him, smile at them, load the dishwasher, brush my teeth. Do it all over again. Over and over and over, where it stops, no one knows.

Then and then only, I’ll realize why I’m not the winner.  I had it first, I found a new home before he did, I built myself back up. He’s practically old! This wizened, withered, weathered human who finally wound up happy, is the winner.

At the end of the day, I may have more, and I had it first. But at the end of the day, he’ll look into her eyes and see her and only her. I’ll look into his eyes and see a blank slate for a life I did not have. He doesn’t think of me, and I think of him relentlessly. I’m still sad, and he’s just fine. Now what does that say about me? Winners don’t dwell, and winners forget. It’s only the unluckiest of the bunch who still want to win, who still feel at a loss when they find out he is finally happy.

I can recall with perfect clarity, and I’m sure I always will, the time when I set myself on the floor next to him. I felt shy, all of a sudden, so I kept my distance. You pouted, and beckoned me closer. I hastily obliged. I had so rarely felt like this. One could even say, I’d never felt cherished that way, and that I’d never had such a case of butterflies in my life. O the butterflies! They wouldn't stop their dizzying circles, racing around and around my body, reminding me that you were special. And I listened to the butterflies, those damn, unyielding butterflies. I believed every word they spoke. I looked at you that night with stars in my eyes, and stars on the ceiling. Enchanting, was the word of the evening. An entire world had been painted in my eyes that night.

When I glimpse at the future, I know to count myself as lucky.