It’s a beautiful, sunny, day here. Summer’s well on its way…it’s getting hotter. I feel so isolated, even though the main road is only a hundred yards away. The dogs bark at the little critters that run through the tall grass. When it gets too loud, I take the gun and investigate. I shoot a few rounds in the general direction of the dogs’ focus, then come back inside to my beloved silence.
My little hacienda is unkempt. Although we moved nearly two months ago, the furniture is not where I want it. Bags of clothes line half a wall, waiting to be sorted. I must admit to feeling comfortable in the clutter. Perfect things make me nervous. But, I promised myself that I’d put things in place, and that is what I’m going to do.
I’d love to go for a drive today, but something holds me inside. Something always seems to hold me inside. On this property, I have nothing to fear. As long as I have my pistol, I remain at the top of the food chain, no matter how far I venture into the woods. Even so…I’ll sit this one out.
(The murderess is on the left…with my cardinal in her mouth).
There was a fat little cardinal that lived in the tree by the big front windows. I began to notice him a few days after we moved in. He’d look into the window every day, to see what he could, I suppose. Then, he’d hop around on the ground and, each time he hopped, he’d make the sweetest lil ‘peep’. Evening before last, I realized that I hadn’t seen the little fella since early that day. I paid no mind, thinking that the heat was getting to him and he was simply staying in his tree. Sadly, I was mistaken. I had to run to town yesterday and, when I got home, Pepper, one of the dogs, proudly brought the cardinal over and laid him at my feet. Poor baby…I wanted to cry, but she was only doing what animals do. Adios, cardinal…
I find myself counting the days until Exish comes back from the job. The thought of being here alone with him unnerves me. Even as I think about it, I feel anxious and afraid. I don’t fear him, physically. That’s not it at all. He takes something from me that’s more intangible, and actually much more important to me, than my physical well being. He takes my peace. I feel forced into one mind game after another, as he wears me down. He has perfected the formula over these many years. I, on the other hand, am like one of those puppies who just never can seem to learn. Pop me on the nose, and, five minutes later, I’ve already forgotten and am back for more.
I’ve left a profile on a dating site. I enjoy talking to men. They have always shown themselves to be much better friends to me than the women I’ve known, except for my mother, of course. Now and then, I get a message and have a nice chat with someone. Most end in the same way when I explain that I live with Exish. Who can blame anyone for not wanting to involve themselves in such an odd situation?
When it comes to Exish, as I’ve said before, he and I are like family. I don’t think you every really unattach from someone with whom you’ve been for a total of 32 years. Even though we’ve had separate bedrooms for the last four…closer to five…years, he still sees us as a married couple. I do not. I haven’t see us in that light since he told me he was in love with some woman on the job about eight years ago. That was actually fairly funny…but it’s a story for another day. In any case, no man who loves his wife would come home from work, tell her to pack and leave because he is in love with another woman. Shockingly, it still took almost four more years for me to make my exit.
Since I moved back home, I just never considered trying to reconcile as husband and wife. I don’t see Exish in that light. Not in any way. This offends his ego, and he insists that I am still his wife, as though I’m property and have no say in my own life. Until now, it’s been easy enough to go along with that. It’s almost a game between us. I say we’re separated, he says we’re married…on and on it goes.
Sometimes, I look at him and wonder what it must be like to be so sure of oneself that you can tell someone, basically, that you own them. What causes someone to have that sense of power? When I look at him, I see that he’s a broken man, physically. And I see that he’s an addict. His words, almost always negative, ring in my ears like the roar of loud thunder. They don’t really speak to me, but the sound…it tells me all I need to know. And I don’t want that. I want to be able to talk to someone and have them talk back to me. Exish will actually put up his hand to let me know to be quiet. Who in Holy Hell does he think he is?
Well, this post has certainly spiraled downward. I need to stop typing, anyway. My hands, which have taken to random, uncontrollable shaking, have had enough. Fingers are getting too stubborn to listen and do as they’re told. It’s taken well over an hour to write this. I don’t know how I expect to finish my book/s. But I will. I promise you that much. I will. Because, at the end of the day, I am one stubborn and determined female. That’s why. lol! I think I may put a post up one day that has no ‘back’ button in it. I don’t know if it will be readable. It even surprises me what comes through these hands. Good grief…