Flying in a Field of Healing

She opened the box and sifted through the contents. Her fingers ran along the length of the necklace. Her mind ran through the memories. He had given this to her on their 5th anniversary. He found it on the side of the road, but it had her initials and it matched her eyes. It wasn’t about the money back then. It was kismet.

Before they married, their paths kept crossing and aligning. First a tornado hit the house he was supposed to live in and caused him to move next door to her instead. Then they had friends in common and ran into each other at the Marigold’s house. Birds, all kinds of birds would be near when they were together. Birds were her sign.

She pulled a picture from the box. In it she was wearing her favorite dress from that summer. The warm glow of the summer sun and splashes of marigolds across the fabric, matched her smile. The smile that was real. The smile that burst from her soul and she couldn’t contain. The smile that later gave way to grief from his cruelty.

They were at a Day of the Dead event years after and again more marigolds, this time next to the altars. The smells overtook her and she prayed for her spirits to come to her. Long gone were the days of smiles and warmth. Now she longed to let go and join her ancestors. She didn’t have it in her to fight anymore. Fight for her dreams. Fight against his jealousy. Fight for her worth. Fight against his shame. Fight for her ability to take care of herself and not stay out of fear of what would happen if she left.

Fear and fight were pulling her and dragging her under. It had taken all her strength to rise from bed. Her arms were heavy, and her body weighted against the bed. The tears had long stopped. She felt nothing, but she also felt everything. The intensity of the everything was suffocating, smothering her, while she laid there on the bed.

He told her to get over it. He said she couldn’t even do anything to help. He said she wasn’t a good mom. He yelled about countless things he said she couldn’t do, wouldn’t do, shouldn’t do. Blah blah blah blah. A small glimmer in her heart called out and told her it wasn’t true. His blame, dismissal, invalidation and bullying was about him. She didn’t deserve it. He’d been punishing her again and again for his pain. She’d been allowing it, taking it, but she didn’t realize it at first. In the beginning it started with a small comment, a suggestion, and insinuation. She questioned herself, tried to do better, and tried to improve.

One of her friends said she was being abused. It shocked her. The truth felt confusing, trying to decide which perspective was right. To one she was a victim, to another she was the one to blame. She looked through the box again, searching for an answer or a clue to how she got here.

She pulled a letter from the box. He had written that she was the love of his life. He had written they would be together forever and that he’d never love anyone like he loved her. The highs of his charm were intoxicating. She could fly and ride that feeling through the waves of negativity. Until the downward spiral kept slamming her against the wall. Until he recorded her on hidden camera and accused her of cheating and then pulled out that gun. Her whole body tensed and her insides shouted at her. Her outside frame was frozen. Frozen in shock, in trying to understand, in the unknown and unexpected place she found herself. She went from being the love of his life to feeling intimidated by his control and manipulation.

Her freeze broke and her heart rate spiked. Her mind was laser focused. She had to leave. She had to get out of the house. Everything in her screamed it wasn’t right. His words said she was ridiculous. His words said she was wrong. His tone said she was crazy. That didn’t stop her this day. His actions inflamed her and hardened her course. She would make sure she was safe and her children were safe. She would listen to her intuition. She threw things in a bag. She didn’t know what she was putting in there, maybe some shirts or shorts, hopefully some underwear and a toothbrush. She thought it didn’t really matter.

She fled the house and drove, drove until she felt safe and alone. She parked the car and collapsed in a heap of sobs and terror. Shaking. She couldn’t stop shaking. She wasn’t sure what to do, where to go, or who to call, but she looked out the window and she saw her sign. The sign that told her it would be ok - a flock of birds had just landed in a field of marigolds.

She brought herself back into the present moment and out of the memories of the box. She couldn’t change the past. She could only move forward. She stood in front of the fire and took each item from the box and dropped it in the flames one by one. The summer was gone. The marigolds had given way to the fiery contrast of leaves changing in the tress. Then the leaves had started falling from the force of the wind. One by one like the items from the box. Falling way to something new and something gone. A new form emerging, first from an ash and a cold winter. The orange of the fire glowed against her cheeks and warmed her skin. It was winter now, but she knew the new year was coming.