February 25, 2009 at 8:24 pm (Uncategorized)
Tags: Blackwell Lake, Marianne
After looking at the house this weekend, Marianne was excited. It was everything she has ever wanted in a writing retreat, and she conceded that it wouldn’t make a half-bad home as well. We agreed that we wanted to bring the kids up soon so that they could give us their thoughts, but if all goes to plan, we envision being in the house st Blackwell Lake by the first of April.
I am so relieved. I feel I can breathe a little easier, and I can see a brand new life on the horizon.
February 21, 2009 at 1:00 pm (Uncategorized)
Tags: Basement, Marianne
While Marianne is in the shower, I thought I might take a moment and jot down some things. I am very nervous about this afternoon. I want Marianne to recognize how beneficial this move could be – for us and the kids. It is an opportunity to make a brand new start. She can return to her writing and I can establish the small veterinary practice I have always wanted.
I know that this move will not be easy on any of us. Our lives, for so long, have been tied to the city. But now we have this opportunity to live a life free from the noise and bustle. I think here we can finally find peace. I need that. My family needs that.
I am anxious to see the house again; curious to see if it still is the same place I remember from my childhood. And will I still be frightened of the basement?
Well, Marianne is finished. I have to stop for now. I don’t want her to know I am writing this. If she found out, she would likely want to read it and inevitably her cantankerous inner-editor would come out. I will try to follow up this evening.
February 20, 2009 at 10:04 pm (Uncategorized)
Tags: Blackwell Lake, Dreams, Grandfather, Marianne
Marianne and I left the kids with her sister for the weekend, and we made the three hour drive to Blackwell Lake. I tried not to flaunt my excitement because I knew that Marianne was still not entirely convinced the move was the best thing. But I sensed that we were at a very important crossroads. For the past year, our once happy life together has seemed to fade. Though most of the physical scars left by the accident have smoothed and disappeared, the emotional and psychological wounds still fester. I am still not sure I managed to enjoy even a single night’s rest for a period of months. On our ride, the memories that had haunted me seemed to disappear as part of a barely remembered past. That man who had grown ever more hollow in preceding months was nothing more than a wisp of smoke to be unraveled by a spring breeze. Instead, I clung to memories of my youth at Blackwell Lake, of fishing with my grandfather, and of Christmases and Thanksgivings spent with family before a roaring fire. I knew that Marianne, the children, and I could make similar memories together. However, to do this, we needed to get out of the city where the wake of tragedy still trailed across restless waters. I knew that as long as we remained, I would never be able to let go of that past, and I had to get Marianne to see the same.
We didn’t talk much on the drive. I listened to Beethoven and she played her electronic Sudoku. It wasn’t that the drive was tense. No, this is how our relationship has devolved in more than 15 years. Instead of talking and sharing our feelings, we have grown complacent with the long silences that bridge the growing gulf between us. We stopped at the Mountain Cafe for lunch. I remembered eating there as a child when my parents and I travelled to my grandparents’ house. Back then, the cafe was owned by an aging couple – Beth and Earl Goodman. Now the cafe is managed by their son. I don’t know why I was surprised to learn of their passing. It had been more than 25 years since I had seen them last, and they must have been in their 60s then.
