When you get almost everything you want, you sometimes forget about the little niceties you failed to win. Other times, it’s all you can think about.
I’m thinking about it today. Dumb, ridiculous me.
It’s the ask, that’s what it comes down to.
I want to be happy in our new life. With our two homes. Well, their two homes. The munchkins have a home with us, and one (sort of) with her. That isn’t my issue.
Her ask bothers me. He never wanted her to stop being their mother. She wanted him gone as their father. How can I believe this is fair?
Her ask wasn’t fair, in the first place.
The judge pretended both parents were acting in good faith. After months of ignored facts, circumstances, and arguments, the legal system cut the baby in half. Each parent got something they wanted, but not all.
He got to have his kids in his life half the time (but no school or medical choice). She got decision making (but she not full residential custody with only supervised monthly visits for their father; plus the loss of hundreds of thousands in child support). (At least the kids saw through her, that’s something.)
I’m supposed to act like both sides are the same.
Whatever the “sides” may be. Democrats, Republicans. Mother, father. Non mainstream (polyamorous/transgender/POC/etc.), mainstream.
I’m supposed to say, “Yeah, everyone’s equally at fault.” When one side says, “Let’s ease your student loan debt,” while the other says, “We will lower your gas prices, if you let us restrict abortion rights.” (Fuck you, you don’t get to turn children into baby incubators at ten years old and then give their parents a few bucks off things they need to live. That’s a fucking toxic trade.)
What am I supposed to do now?
Do I smile as if nothing she did before today means anything? I think I have to, but I’m not sure. I do know I need to stop worrying about it.
Monsoons came to the Nevada deserts today. I live next to a giant lake, now, and I’ll be honest, I haven’t appreciated rainy days in quite a while. If anything, I’m mildly annoyed. But I forgot how much it means to someone who rarely sees water gushing down from the sky. It’s life giving. Hearing my friends back home talk about something that folk out here complain and whine about. Oh, we have too much water! Yeah, yeah, I know.
I don’t have it all, but I cannot spend my time dwelling on that.
On what was lost. On what will never be. We did our best. For now, the fight is done.
Well, I will not stop fighting, but– sometimes you need to appreciate rain the way desert dwellers do. Sitting on the porch, savoring the smells, the sounds. I’ll pause my battle. For the moment.
I, here and now, make a personal commitment to love how amazing life has been.
Life is too short to not be grateful for what you’ve got.
1 thought on “rain in the desert”
Living in a desert, this hits me hard. The imagery is fantastic. Your writing style has a beautiful flow and csrries a powerful message. Thank you.