Turning A New Life


    Every day was the same. Each one ran into the other until she'd lost all sense of time. She no longer cared what time it was, or what day it was, for that matter. There weren't many things she cared about any more, these days.

    Lately she'd spent a lot of time buried in the past. The present was so hard and the future, well, she couldn't even bare to think about that.

    This morning, after she'd just barely managed to get the kids out to the school bus on time, she sat for a long time staring into the congealing coffee in her ancient, chipped mug. The mug was the first gift her husband had ever given her. So many years, so many tears ago.

    They were so much in love. He was so young and handsome. The first time she saw him, she knew instantly he had to be the one. It was three months after their first date that he'd whipped out the beautifully wrapped box and handed it to her. Eyes twinkling, he told her,
"So you can think of me every morning when you use it."
Painted gayly on the mug were these words....To The Woman I Will Always Love.

    She thought of him, as she sat there. The thoughts were not exactly the kind he'd had in mind way back then. This morning she thought of the first time he'd hit her. Just a "little love tap" he'd told her. It would "never happen again". He said those same words the next four or five times too.

    There came the night he almost killed her and as he sat by her hospital bed, he swore he'd never hit her again. Strangely enough he was true to his word; he never raised a hand to her again. His fists were stalled, but his mouth went into over-drive. Words can cut even deeper than a knife sometimes, knock you even flatter than the hardest punch.

    She hated being weak. Hated that she still loved him. It was her love that gave power to his words. Her weakness that let the words break her.

    Sometimes in her dreams, he would come to her. He'd look into her eyes and tell her how much he loved her, how very much he needed her. Tell her he would die for her if he had to.

    She wasn't dreaming today.

    She got up, put her cup into the sink and washed the breakfast dishes, just as she'd done every other day for fifteen years. She wanted the house to look perfect today. She set about making the beds and sweeping the floors. She picked up all the kids toys and vacuumed the rugs. Surveying each room she was satisfied that all was about as perfect as it was going to get.

    She drew a bath for herself, filling the tub almost to overflowing with bubbles. The warm water soothed her weary bones and she soaked languidly until the water was cold and the bubbles fell flat. Wrapping herself in a huge soft bathrobe she walked over to the bathroom counter where her makeup was organized in neat little rows. She took her time applying her makeup using her favourite lipstick and eyeshadows. She wanted to look beautiful today. She walked over to the closet and took out her favourite dress, the one she always got complimented on. Looking into the mirror again she brushed her long dark tresses and arranged them into an upswept ponytail. It was the way her husband most liked her hair.

    As she walked back down the stairs, she felt a new sense of peaceful calm. She'd finally made a decision. She finally knew what to do.

    She once again removed the vacuum cleaner from the broom closet, this time unscrewing the hose and taking it to the garage with her. She worked one end of the hose over the car exhaust. The other end she put into the front car window. Making certain she had remembered to tightly shut the garage doors, she stepped into the car and turned on the ignition. She wound the window up.

     Leaning back, smiling slightly, she closed her eyes and willed herself to dream. There he was, looking down into her eyes, telling her how much he loved her. Gazing into his eyes she began to drift away. When she could no longer make out his face, she opened her eyes hoping to see him more clearly. An object on the seat beside her came into focus. It was a piece of paper. There were four sweet words printed on that little piece of paper in a childish scrawl.....Mommy I Love You.

     As she placed the vacuum cleaner hose back in the broom closet, many voices vied for attention in her head. The loudest one said, "Maybe tomorrow will be a better day."



This short story and all text
and graphics on this page :
Copyright 1998 - 2004
by Charmaine V.
All Rights Reserved


Thought I'd just better mention that this little story is pure fiction and not in any way autobiographical. I got the idea for this story when I heard of a woman who killed herself, leaving three kids behind because her husband was having an affair. This story is somewhat different from hers but the point I was trying to get across is that NO man is ever worth leaving your children without a Mom for....EVER ! Do your children and yourself a favour and get out of there while you still can.







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All graphics and text on this page :
Copyright 1996 - Present by Charmaine V.
All Rights Reserved.