Pictures of You

I am at my mother's house, and on the walk down the hall to retrieve my book, I saw it.  A last remaining picture of myself and the Ex together.  It's a small picture, tucked up on a top shelf of a tall bookcase, and shows the two of us standing together outside the door of the first home we purchased together.  The door is heavy, dark and old.  The place was a vintage condo in a beautifully maintained building and it was on the very edge of what we could afford.  I remember a brief panic when we made the decision to buy it -- I was freaked out by the absolute permanence of ownership and mortgages and all that.

In the picture, I am dressed in the way I dressed for much of my life -- to hide.  A long skirt just a smidgen too big for me, and over it a man's shirt that was so large the fabric only touched my body at the shoulders and from there hung in billows over me.  I am holding a man's suit coat in my hand -- of a similar size to the shirt.  I have one hand on the door, my body is angled toward the Ex and I am smiling freely.  I know why -- because I felt utterly safe.  The frightening permanence of home ownership very quickly got rolled up into the absolute comfort of stability.  A place to live, a stable job at a large company, a partner to share this life with, clothes that covered me absolutely -- it was all part of my need to be and feel protected.

The moment that picture was taken, I thought I couldn't be any happier.  When I saw that picture today, I paused to take it in and remember myself as I was then.  I have a deep affection for that young woman, but I am so glad that I am miles away from her now.  Not only have I (mostly) gotten rid of the ill-fitting sacks I used to wear, but I am decidedly not safe in the way I used to define it.  Renting a place, working for myself, with no partner (yet) to help me with any of it.  In my life now I am more open to being hurt (emotionally, financially, mentally) than I ever have been.  But I am so much happier than that young woman.

At least I am today. Sitting on my mother's back porch watching butterflies and bumble bees cavort in her unbelievable garden, I am happier.  And, unlike the young woman in that picture, today I know that this moment is enough.  So I will celebrate it.