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Wed 17 Sep, 2003 09:06 am
Well, not really.
Yesterday, I was given some bad directions on reaching business in which I have some interest (fabric store). by the time I reached it, it had closed for the day. Here I was, in North Chelmsford, MA, about 10 miles from the NH border and 20 miles from home without having accomplished my goal (looking at quilting stuff).
I was relatively near the first house my ex-husband and I owned so I drove over there. The house was somewhat the same: a six room cape in an ex-urban neighborhood in a tiny town. The woman who bought the house from us still lives there, 20 years later.
The kitchen was largely as I had designed it although the stoves and the cook top had to be replaced. It was still beautiful and still shelter magazine worthy.
I suspect her life was less than happy. She had apparently never married and the house was overflowing in the way a house does when a person keeps artificially busy. Laid off two years ago from her job as a programmer -- actually, a good thing because her job had driven her to 200 pounds and programming is not friendly toward women, especially middle aged women -- she freelances and works part-time in a library.
I spoke of my fruitless five year search for work and we commiserated on being women of a certain age.
There was something sad about the house. It reminded me of how unhappy my marriage had been and of how hard I worked at it. Working at things is my harmatia, my tragic flaw. I work to succeed and never see that I am failing and should walk away. I made my children unhappy working on the primary relationship rather than leaving it for their sake.
My former husband sees my wrongly as a woman who changes her mind easily. Were this true, I wouldn't have taken 13 years and three children to realize how bad things were. I had a glimmer of the need to leave not long after my daughter was born and I wish I had. I should have paid more attention to her, been a better mother because being a good wife under the situation was futile.
It was a house, not a home, and visiting it resulted in a sleepless night.
So, what good will come of it? More of a sense of closure? A confirmation that you did the right thing? You prolly had these already. But, this feels like there's something more to it.
I hadn't gone there for the sake of memories. I had driven by the house a few times before, once to show my former boyfriend Jim the house and the town. He was so busy reading that I had to say, look, there it is.
I am surprised at how badly I feel today after being there.
Don't feel badly! Life's too short. So, the one spot has bad memories of both your ex hubby and your ex b/f. Not good. And on top of that, the presence of a woman who makes you feel sad.
Earlier this summer, a former resident (his parents owned the house, he lived there as a child) of my house in Winchester, drove by and told me about his family. they're the Walcotts who own the appliance stores in Medford and Bedford.
Then, jesusgirl from abuzz, who is one of the crones, told me she is certain we met . . . she is from Detroit and like me went to Wayne State University. I started thinking about the women I knew at WSU and was in a nostalgic frame of mind.
I think if I hadn't had the email exchange with jesusgirl, I wouldn't have stopped at the house.
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