Perfect Indian summer wednesday

Mood: sad  (Update)

Status: misslizzyanne "While though the tempest loudly roars~I hear the truth, it liveth.~And though the darkness 'round me close~songs in the night it giveth" ~ ~ 'EC'   http://www.myspace.com/lizzyannekeith

Requested that moving the goods be done by DH. He owes me that much grace at least. He had a panic attack, per. and the attitude. me trying very hawd to no' be snippety. . . i thought i would not be able to 'march' into my former home, still mine legally (where did the sad face go? i need it! vv) and, and, take the furniture right out from under his nose.
which i did and MS was predictably pissy when he came walking through and saw the parents' blah, blah.

guess the main sticking point is the separation and who said what and who meant what. all the usual hostility, both sides. i hear my self and it sounds predictably irate and possibly more bitter than i know.
And the longer i am out of this marriage, the more surety i have that the Purpose&Design team  is allowing the going, the grief, the mosaic. so. there it is.

After!!!!!!!!   still Wednesday. The update:
I am a physical wreck.  This has gotta rank right up there with most unpleasant days top ten. all done in 3 hours.
After it was all over, wept in the temple of the cedar shower up top my rig.

BUT ALL MY WORLDLY GOODS ARE IN STORAGE. missing a drawer, two table leaves, loft bed, some kid stuff in the attic, helmets too. everything still there is his or what we acquired together, except that big old rocking chair. i leave that for Eli in lieu of the Carter family baby rocker which was stolen and pawned and never recovered. Not much to show for 17 years of failure.

As i watched him and my son go into  "their" house, front door closing behind them, Eli's broad shoulders disappearing into that dark rectangle, it all fell into permanence. God save you and keep you and bless you and wipe your pain away. Flee Eli. Fly my son.
Don't know much about you
Don't know who you are
We've been doing fine without you
But, we could only go so far
Don't know why you chose us
Were you watching from above
Is there someone there that knows us
Said we'd give you all our love

Will you laugh just like your mother
Will you sigh like your old man
Will some things skip a generation
Like I've heard they often can
Are you a poet or a dancer
A devil or a clown
Or a strange new combination of
The things we've handed down

I wonder who you'll look like
Will your hair fall down and curl
Will you be a mama's boy
Or daddy's little girl
Will you be a sad reminder
Of what's been lost along the way
Maybe you can help me find her
In the things you do and say

And these things that we have given you
They are not so easily found
But you can thank us later
For the things we've handed down

You may not always be so grateful
For the way that you were made
Some feature of your father's
That you'd gladly sell or trade
And one day you may look at us
And say that you were cursed
But over time that line has been
Extremely well rehearsed
By our fathers, and their fathers
In some old and distant town
From places no one here remembers
Come the things we've handed down
marc cohn

Playlist: Clare Bowditch "Cannot Buy my Soul"