While driving errands on a sunny morning she said “a walk in to the wood would be nice” … It was her second appeal. I was thinking rice and beans; a move to San Juan del Sur; open skies and sandy beaches. Just a pair of jeans, some nice guayaveras. The essentials for living large, and perhaps some tobacco. I could feel the salty breeze on my face; savour a nice drink of rum, watching the evening go by. You know, she added “we need to lose some weight this year” – of course, I replied, perhaps some serious Pilates workout?
My plan was simple; establish a new centre for intercultural studies and social change. “Yes! She exclaimed, I agree. But, what about the kids? Do they need a special diet too?” Not sure about that, I replied; they look fine to me. Indeed, given my spouse’s obsession with body shapes, she could be in charge of all matters exercise at the venue. “You’re missing the point, she retorted; they look OK but, could be better, much better …”
I was conflicted during the drive; all my grand plans where in still in my head, had not mentioned to her for fears of a cultural clash of sorts – she tended to be impatient, needed results, yesterday. After all, our financial situation was rather ‘fragile’ to put it mildly. Days later, after a passionate interlude of beds and pillows, I managed to reveal my new venture to her. She was attentive, the idea was ‘intriguing’ – she commented, lukewarm. Could the kids adapt to a new land? New language, unknown food; they’d miss their friends too much.
Let’s pause on this, I suggested, there’s no rush. Then, for the first time in our long journey I felt out of place; it was as if our bodies where on distant lands, and the geography of my 3 year plan evaporated. You know, she added gently, “maybe there’s something deeper we need to talk about …” That was the clarion I wasn’t quite expecting, but, I also knew then and there that a walk into the woods was indeed in the horizon.
A month later, we separated. The plan gone; suddenly our marriage converted to ashes. It was hard to find something to hold on to, except the kids. Angels of a different kind, they were beyond the fire that slowly consumes institutional routines, predictability and good intentions. And that was a good thing; as they kept me sane amidst the turbulence. Their love constant, the intimacy of their domain strong. Divorce followed. We survived.
Years have gone by now; dark spaces an occasional companion. After the collapse, catharsis, for a few misplaced affections and suffocating commitments do not make for a whole life of richly nurturing emotional exchanges. I am now surrounded by solitary stretches of roads; some painful breakups; new kisses, promises to honour, the possibility of romance and lovingly journeys and of course, the perennial ghosts in the house.
Notwithstanding the overshadowing sense of solitude we all carry deep inside on our way home, the sacrifices we make, our service to duty, overburdened at times by futility, we keep, like a mystical phoenix, rebirthing. Let our imaginary wings take us further into the woods I say; who knows? We may, like an enduring love, find each other again, miraculously, light, as a feather.
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© Leo Campos Aldunez
Edmonton, AB (Canada)
