A Month plus...

Well, it has been over a month. I've received emails, sent some. Beautiful flowers and an sms for my birthday. Curious. Perhaps it is easier to be "quittée" than to "quitte."

During this time I've read interesting and helpful books (David Deida, Hendrick Harville, Barbara de Angelis) and listened to others (John Welwood, Deepak Chopra, Eckhart Tolle, Tara Brach, Oriah Mountain Dreamer). I'm seeking to make sense of it all, to learn something, to be more for what I lived, and not less. To see a lesson amidst the pain and confusion. I sent on French versions of the first two books to JP... for his next coupledom. They both make some very good points.

And, for me, all this reading and probing into my soul and heart seems to be working. In any case, the universe is certainly telling me that at long last I'm on the right path.

These past two weeks I've worked more and earned more than in practically the past two and half years combined (okay, I exaggerate, but not by much). I'm getting ahead on house projects -- I even spent a day going through my mending pile! Finally, that hole in the butt of Jonas' pjs... My Good Will pile ready to go into the trunk of my car.

And even more lovely, my home is giving back to me, as are my children. Roses are blooming on every corner, bursting forth.

This weekend is a time of rest from 'work.' And a time to seriously work on the garden and the house. The pool is now painted with two coats of protective (non-toxic, organic) pine-colored stuff. The overgrown/broken down barrier to the far side of my row of cypress trees is gone, soon to be replaced by a clean and sturdy new fence. My vegetable garden is not only weeded, it is gifting us with fresh new garlic, and 300grams (a nice small bucket) of gorgeous strawberries daily. Perhaps to compensate for the completely fruitless cherry tree? Five new tomato plants are in. Three pumpkin seeds have sprouted, and two melon. The three pea plants that survived the slugs are each bearing pods. They will be, as we say, anecdotique. A saucepan they shall not fill. But a happy little boy may easily nibble some in the next few days, right off the vine.

My neighbor, aka my adopted little brother, is available to help out (for pay) in the garden, and is easily and happily taking on the role of masculine presence for the boys. Today was one of those magical days when I had lots of projects, had banished the computer, and we all spent the day working side by side outdoors in the garden. Laurent quickly had both boys at his side helping burn the brush. He carefully instructed them how, had them in proper shoes and gloves, and I simply laid off and did my thing (paint/weed/laundry/cake/lunch...). If only once JP had shown the same patience and presence of mind... Ah well, water under the bridge.

It's been pointed out to me that with my father issues... it is quite possible that somehow I sabotaged (not consciously!) the potential relationship between my boys and JP. That I needed to be in the tiny space of a couple, treated with tenderness and attention, and sharing that space with my own children might have been something I hesitated to put into place. Perhaps. Certainly, I early on got the message that we'd not live my ideal rhythm: 2 days together, 3 days me alone with my boys and 2 days all 4 of us together. The first time we shared a home (the 4 of us) for 3 days, the day my boys went to their father, I didn't get my man back, I lost him. His need to be alone was such that he needed days to recuperate from the invasion of my children in his home, and he fled me as well. Perhaps I learned this lesson too well.

Whatever the justice of the observation, when briefly I met a man who was fabulous with my boys, but apparently couldn't make time for me... I turned away from him, freaked by his workaholic nature, touched by his extraordinary devotion to the children, but put off by his seeming blindness towards what keeps a couple together.

However, I'm writing of the past, but my intention was/is to laud the present.

Friday night (very recent past, you must grant me) gifted me with a wonderful evening of tango -- dancing with many a different cavalier of varied skill, age, size, height, rhythm. It was glorious and warm and delightful and ... just what I needed. As I drove home I was on such a high. I've absolutely nothing to complain about. My kids are pretty darn nice. I've a collection of devoted and generous friends. I dance, I garden, I cook, I earn a living. I am at peace with my world, and reveling in the pure joy of it.

Yes, it would be lovely to meet someone new, at some point, who could truly look at me and accept the country/city nature, the dress-up tango dancer/barefoot gardener, the great cook of feasts for friends/curl up in bed with a book and a cuddle over a weekend... bundle of contrasts that I am. Ah well. In the meantime, kids, friends and a life.

It's nothing to sneeze at.