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memoir of what I experienced 10 years ago

I started painting. Hadn't done any art in years, and now, suddenly, it was all I could think about. I got a canvas and some paints, had an idea, dipped the brush into the color and then it happened- a drip fell onto the canvas. I looked at the drip. It was in the shape of a fish, and the colors swirled. I tried it again, this time with better aim, and whatttya know, my "fish paintings" were born. An accidental hit. Everybody loved them. My grandmother ended up hijacking about 5 of them and entering them into an art show in east Texas, they won. All of them. First, second, third, fourth place, and last but not least, "citizen's favorite", whatever that meant. I thought it was hillarious. The whole thing. Of course I'd win at an art show accidentally, that could never happen intentionally. Story of my life.

I was consumed with painting. My guy got a job laying carpet in a nearby town. Get this: he had to put his old beat-up van on MY insurance, therefore, for some reason, the title was signed over to me, for reasons I still don't understand. I can now say, that for a few months in '99, I was the proud owner of an old messed-up, smoking, loud and rumbling van from, oh, say 1867. I never even touched the thing. It sat outside in the driveway with rolls of old carpet sticking out, right beside my dad's van.

My guy rearranged the upstairs to his liking, I admit it was pretty nice. He got a playstation and showed me all the games. He took his camcorder and somehow set it up with his stereo and my old home videos of my daughter and set them to music. My dad put him to work. He re did the carpet in the downstairs bathroom, re tiled the upstairs bathroom, and went along the outside base of the house after my dad had the foundation repaired, he put up some kind of wood trim that closed it all in, since it was a pier and beam foundation. Other things too, my dad worked him to death. I thought it was funny.

We'd sit up on the small landing of the outside stairs each morning, drinking coffee, him smoking, me starting to like life just a little bit more. Those cold mornings with him were nice. Sort of like the walks on the beach. Seems like when we were outside together, everything was peaceful. I think it calmed his nerves.

I asked him one time, "what's it like to be you?" He said, "it's confusing." I believe him. He was a very confused person. All things considered, I think he was getting by just fine in life. I bet he would have been better off if he & I would not have met, looking back. I used to tell myself I influenced him for the better. No, now I see things way differently. People are better off alone when crisis hits. For real. The time period following a separation and a divorce should be spent alone. Friends and family are good, a new relationship is not so good. Now I know.


I had no idea what we were doing, neither did he. More talk of marriage, but more fights. Now I felt responsible for his well being, since he was staying with me. I felt that now I had start thinking, quick. I tried. I tried to make a plan, but nothing was within our reach. He had no clue what he was doing either. He said he was glad to be away from his town, but he didn't know what to do from here.
More fighting, more discussions that led nowhere. One day we had another huge blowout. We broke up. He took off. I had no idea where he went, nor did I want to know.
I took in a big sigh of relief. I put all my focus back on my daughter, where it belonged. I missed him, but knew it was for the best.



Oh don't get me wrong, it was far from over. But at this point in time, I had a few months to myself. Time to think.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Sometime we must separate. Some love is not possible. I'm glad you begin to paint. Always good to take your attention to other places. Thank you for sharing the excellent chapter.
Coyote