Subjugation and Subordination

credit: fineartamerica.com

This is a continuation of last week’s installment Ephemeral Relinquishment

She felt like she had been dropped into a time machine. Gender roles were clearly defined. Women and girls were only allowed to do domestic chores while men and boys performed all types of manual labor. In fact, they lived decidedly separate existences except for those who were “married”. Even then, husbands and wives only shared space in the bedroom.  Education for girls consisted of preparing them for cooking and cleaning of their future domiciles. They were allowed to grow vegetable and flower gardens and to occasionally roam the fields and woods (escorted) in search of wildflowers or truffles to be used for meals. Religious study was allowed if only to help them better understand that their submissive role was “divinely” ordained.

Lola was appalled at the conditions for females. Often, she would be witness to a young woman’s final preparation for “spiritual marriage.”  All females had to be pure in order to marry.  Those that were deemed not pure enough were often relegated to working in the Saddle Club as entertainers for the “47”-a term for the men who did the Restoration Party’s dirty work. These men were not allowed to marry or breed. They were “rewarded” for catching Restoration Party outlaws with meals and women and were free to do with them what they pleased.  There seemed to be no exact standard for purity and many women were often shocked when they received news of their status. Many attempted to kill themselves in order to avoid their fate and others tried to run away only to be shot by the very men for whom they were to be sexual slaves. Still others were deemed to be good breeders (Lola discovered that these women were already mothers but too “old” to marry). They were sent to housing where their cycles were closely monitored. When they were fertile, they were “visited” by high-ranking members of the Restoration Party. The Breeding House was used as a means to further populate the Restoration Party’s members with the goal of regaining power.

Lola already knew that her role was going to be different. Over these last few weeks, she had learned that the Master had chosen someone to marry his eldest son by his first wife.  In fact, he had chosen three. The one he picked as the most “qualified” was to marry the eldest while the  other two were slated to marry son #2 and son #3.  So here she was. Sharing space in The Prenuptial cottage with two of her peers. They were as petrified as she was confident. Better still, she knew these girls.  And they seemed to know her. Their families were key members of the Renewal Party and she had heard about their disappearance shortly before she was sent on her scouting mission. Wherever Lola had ended up that day in the field, she had now concluded that this was not a holding center but the heart and soul of the Restoration Party’s operations.

She just needed to find a way to communicate with Tasha and Grace. Because all of their movements were recorded, speaking openly was out of the question. During the upheaval, Jack had taught Lola and many other Renewal Party members a secret sign language. It proved to be useful now.

“Don’t worry my friends, ” Lola signaled.  “We are going to hatch a plan that will free all of us.”

August Blues

Photo credit: wermsgarden.com

The sun makes one last valiant effort to shine through the mist, and for a few seconds, everything steams, yellow and gray. Then the rain sweeps in and everything is gone.

A trip back in time when this month’s beginning was her world’s ending

Bracing for the inevitable

As the storm’s clouds raged in the distance

And when it came, her body crumpled in defeat

Nights sleepless, Days motionless, Tears endless

Rifling through papers

Reading

The Destruction

The Anger

 The Deceit

      She

Collects

Gathers

Tosses

Burns

  Returns them to the Earth

 Dissipating Disintegrating Disappearing

Extinguished and Extinct

#FWF Free Write Friday: Famous Last Words

This week’s prompt from Kellie invited us to take the last few lines of a memorable book or poem and create a story or poem based on it. This quote is from the last two lines of  “Those Who Save US” by Jenna Blum (her first novel- I highly recommend reading it).

August is not a favorite month of mine and I have been thinking of ways to write about some jumbled up feelings that this month represents for me.   Kellie’s Karmic Connection has helped me sort them out a bit!

Ephemeral Relinquishment

(photo credit: asi.fullerton.edu)

A note to my readers: This story is  another installment from my series that began with  Underground Hope ,The Scout ,  Captive & Inspection

Lola woke up with a start.  Looking around, she could see that she was in a small, stark room. An undersized window provided the only light.  And the door looked to be made of steel. She lay on a single bed under a single sheet. It was hot. Stifling. She was still naked. Was this the way they were keeping her here? Was she somehow supposed to feel embarrassed or ashamed of her body?  Her bareness would not interfere with any planned attempts at escape. Lola knew she may be stuck in this place indefinitely but she would never give up on thinking of ways to leave.

As she lay there, her thoughts drifted to her mother. She had been one of the women who had disappeared during the time of the Restoration Party’s rule. She was considered a threat because of her outspokenness as well as the fact that she was a spiritual leader. The Restoration Party believed that all women were to be demurring if not silent. Furthermore, they held the belief that only men qualified as religious leaders. Lola and her father, Jack were determined to find her.  Lola was hoping that this latest quest would lead her closer to Adrienne.

Her reverie was interrupted by the jangling of keys in the lock. Lola sat up. The door opened slowly. Then the sound of boots followed by four shadows.  A tall formidable looking male wearing jeans, black t-shirt and boots walked toward Lola. His face was youthful and his black hair was closely cropped. Everything about him was dark with the exception of his fiercely blue eyes. Lola looked behind him. The shadows were actually four women, dressed in plain white dresses.  Their hair was in a long braid that flowed towards the floor. They eyes were cast down so as to obscure their faces.

The man pulled the sheet from Lola’s body. She looked straight into his eyes, unflustered by his movement.  He grabbed her by her chin. “Lower your head, girl. A woman never looks a man in the eye. You better get used to it.”

“And what will you do if I don’t?” she replied defiantly. With that, he picked Lola up and pinned her to the wall. “Oh, we’ll just send you over to the Saddle Club’s cage. You’ll become the daily delight of the Rifleman and his kind.”

The thought of this turned Lola’s stomach. She was beginning to get the idea of the Restoration Party’s policy on women.  Spouses. Servants.  Sex Slaves. Servile. Silent. Submissive. Bound to Bondage by decree of the Master.

Lola decided not to tempt fate. If she was going to gather information, she would need to get as close to the position of power as possible.  She offered herself over.

Leibster Award

liebster

For those who are unfamiliar with the Liebster Award rules here they are :

1. Thank the blogger who nominated you for the Liebster Award, and link back to his or her blog.

2. Answer the 11 questions that your nominator asks you.

3. Post 11 random facts about yourself.

4. Nominate 11 bloggers of your own, with under 200 followers, whom you think are as awesome as you.

5. Create 11 questions for your nominees.

6. And finally… Display the Liebster Award logo on your page.

   11 random facts about me:

1- What made you start blogging the very FIRST time?

I was encouraged to start a blog by my oldest son and my fiance’ in the Winter/Spring of 2012. According to them, I have a way with words!  So, I read books on writing (Bird by Bird by Annie Lamott and On Writing by Stephen King), attended a writing symposium for an evening at Eckerd College in St. Petersburg, Florida (hosted by authors  Dennis Lehane and Andre Dubus III) and read lots of memoirs. And with the help of my oldest son’s girlfriend, created my blog last August!

2- If you had to go to a deserted island for 3 months, what 5 things would you not be able to live without?  Books, paper and pen (I count them as 1 thing!), strong coffee, my sons and my fiance’.

3- What size shoes do you wear? 7.5

4- Do you believe in true love and why? Yes but only when you are happy with yourself first and understand who you are. True love is not the stuff of Lifetime movies.  In my experience, I found that it brings me a strong sense of peace and simmering joy.  The person you are with understands you on a profound and deep level- your essence.

5- How old should a person really be permitted to drive and explain why?  Eighteen! Having two sons get their license at 16 and 17 and seeing how much better they are 3-4 years later makes me think that 18 is just about right. Executive function and the fusing of the pre-frontal lobe in the brain usually occur in boys between the ages of 18-20.

6- What is  your favorite meal of the day?  I have no favorite actually! I like all 3 meals for various reasons. I am mindful of what I eat (even when it comes to dessert!) so I enjoy every bite of anything that arrives in my bowl or on my plate!

7- If you could control the weather, what would you choose?  A day much like today. 77 degrees F. Dry and Sunny with the bluest of blue skies. I mean you cannot believe how brilliant it is out there!

8- If you could eliminate one thing evil in this world, what would that be?  All forms of violence, abuse, oppression, suppression and repression towards women. When women are held down, disrespected, or not allowed to have a voice,  everyone is held back from moving towards the fullest expression of themselves and towards being  a gcontributing citizen of the world.

9- We have animal protection, child protection, should we start having laws protecting elderly persons?  Absolutely! We treat our elders as if they are waiting to die rather than a person who has lived a life and deserves dignity and the utmost respect.

10- Have you ever had a speeding ticket and when was that?  Never! A warning once but never a ticket.

11- What did you want to be when you were in Grade school?  I was too busy playing to even think about it!

Eleven Facts About Myself:

1) I love to run and have been involved in the sport at various levels since I was 11 (that is 41 years with some time off in my 20’s).

2) I love yoga almost as much as running. My mat is always out and I attend hot yoga classes regularly.

3) I love being outside-hiking, mowing, shoveling snow, running, walking-any reason to get out every day.

4) I love good food and I love to eat.

5) I love a good strong cup of coffee in the morning when I wake up.

6) I speak my mind. For years, I forgot how to do that and now I do it all the time!

7) I love being a mom to my twenty-something sons. They turned out to great men thanks to me!

8) I love to write and read. I think the only time I didn’t read a book was when I was giving birth to my sons!

9) I love the beach-no matter what season.

10) I love spending time with my girlfriends.

11) I love training for and running in half-marathons with my fiance’.

Many of the blogs I follow have more than 200 subscribers or have already been awarded a Liebster.  So after careful consideration, I am nominating the following wonderful writers:

1) Heidi Barnes at: http://www.anauthorandhermuse.com/:  Gifted writer. A joy to read.  Check out her books.

2) Annie at  ANNIE’S MUSE  Love her poetry and her point of view.

3)  Charlene  whose words really rock! at Brighterdays Blog

4)  The lovely and powerful Pink Woods

5) Amazing, suspenseful flash fiction from:  Amanda’s Writing

6) Photography, flash fiction, poetry and a newly published book from:  Artifacts and Fictions

7)   I truly admire Maria’s creative versatility and her love of the outdoors. Check her out @ xxculture

Here are your questions (with 1 or 2 from the ones posed to me)

1)  What is one place in the world that you would like to visit?

2)  What is your favorite word?

3) What is your least favorite word?

4) If you were to meet someone famous (dead or alive), who would it be and why?

5)  What book have you read lately that you would recommend?

6) When was the first time you fell in love?

7)  What is your dream job?

8)  What job would you least like to do?

9) If you could eliminate one thing evil in this world, what would that be?

10) If you had to go to a deserted island for 3 months, what 5 things would you not be able to live without?

11) What is your favorite time of day and why?

Congratulations Nominees!

Inspection

https://i0.wp.com/www.skin-retreat.com/sites/default/files/shutterstock_57450139sml_0.jpg

Photo credit: www.skin-retreat.com

Lola was drowning. Choking. Spitting. A bucket of frigid water had been dumped on her from an opening in the shed’s roof.  Her wounds stung and her body shivered with the shock. “Breathe Deep and Stay Strong,” she told herself. Abruptly, the door flew open and two men untied her and pulled her up. She was wrapped in a white sheet blindfolded and gagged. Then the cocking of a 12 gauge. She knew that sound. As a child, she had been trained in weaponry for use in protection and hunting. Now, 20 years old and a trained Scout, she carried a  9 mm in her backpack. Lot of good it did now. The pack was somewhere in that cornfield. Lola was angry with herself for falling asleep. She hoped the pack and all its supplies would remain hidden until she developed her escape plan.

“Too bad we can’t touch her.” It was the voice of the Rifleman talking. “Yep. I bet she’d be mighty fine.” Another voice with another gun. “But you know them rules. If we ever get caught, we’d be dead on the spot. Remember what happened to Wayne.”

Unable to walk because of the sheet, the men placed her on a gurney and carried her out of the shed. Lola felt the cool air on her face. Must be late afternoon by now, she thought.The men were gruff in their movements as the path became rougher. Lola listened hard to the sounds around her. Nothing but birds. She could feel their presence along the route. No crows or vultures. The sing-song of the cardinal and the mournful coos of a dove. Oddly soothing.

“HALT!” They stopped with a lurch that nearly toppled Lola off the stretcher.The voice was commanding. “Bring her to the Intake Suite.  She needs further preparation before a final decision is made.” The route took a turn downhill. Lola was replaying the route in her mind.  Previous information from other Scouts had never mentioned an Intake Suite.

Before long, Lola heard a sliding wooshing sound as if two doors were opening automatically. She felt as if they stepped into a sterile hospital setting; she could almost feel the smoothness of the linoleum floor even if her feet weren’t touching the ground. She could see the glare of the florescent lights through the cloth that covered her eyes. Then another Woosh. Another opening and finally a room.

She was placed on a table and  they removed the blindfold from her eyes but left her gagged and wrapped. Woosh. Woosh.  “Thank you, gentleman.” The voice was melodious for a man.  “You’ve earned some time off for this catch. Tell Merle to make sure you get two days at the Saddle Club.”

The Rifleman and his companion left without a word. “Now let’s take care of the rest of you, my dear. But you cannot speak. Otherwise, I will see fit to punish you.” The sheet and cloth were taken from her body in one fell swoop. “Aah. So beautiful. Stand up and turn around.” Lola obeyed. As she turned herself, she took in the room. Sparse. One large comfortable chair at the end of the room and the table. She wouldn’t be here long. She knew that much.

“The Team will have to take special care of you. Your beauty is one of a kind. Worthy of special status. We will need to save you for just one man alone. But the Master will have the final word.”

The Master. Supreme Leader of the Restoration Party. Father of twelve sons from two wives. Believer in the fruitful multiplication of the party. Lola had a feeling she would be ripe for the picking.

Captive

Photo credit; vanitas-art.deviantart.com

Lola struggled to get on her feet. The Rifleman now had his gun pointed at her back. He was prodding and pushing her along a dusty, endless path. The birds continued to circle and call. She could feel herself bleeding. The crusty dirt on her clothes and skin. Her nose and mouth choked with the dregs of the earth. Her blonde locks withered to straw. Her shoes fragmented by beaks. Her gait off-kilter- making it appear as if she were drunk. The Rifleman wordless. Although Lola had difficulty seeing due to the heat and glare, she detected a certain grunt in his appearance and character. A putrid odor emanated  from his body. Prod. Push. Shove. They reached a small shed situated on the side of the path. He reached around her, shoved it open and threw her inside.

Lola was glad of the cool relief but was aware the worst was yet to come. She knew that this location was probably a holding center for the remnants of the Restoration Party. She had heard of these places from other scouts-those who successfully avoided capture. Lola knew that all male scouts were quickly executed and that the female scouts “disappeared”. It was rumored the Restorers siphoned off women to different locations to be used as domestics or breeders. The party was decimated during the Revolution and those few left were determined to rule once again.

She had just gotten used to the darkness when she found herself yanked up by both her arms and tied to a chair. Two burly bearded men stood on the left and right side of her. She couldn’t see them clearly but their musky odor stifled her breathing. From behind, she felt another presence reach overhead to turn on a light. Typical. A single bulb shone on her face. A faceless hand lifted her chin.  At her feet, two more hands removed her shoes.  Snip. Rip. Yank. Her clothes began to disappear. First her pants. Difficult to do while leashed, but these hands were expert. Rip. Pop. Tear. The faceless hand destroyed her shirt and brassiere.

And then-just as quickly as they appeared-they were gone. Leaving Lola covered in nothing but her wounds and the stench of men in heat.

Note to readers: this post is a loose continuation of two previous FWF Time Place Scenario posts “Underground Hope” and “The Scout”.

Geographical Escape 3.5: Fade to Black

photo credit: studiofovea.deviantart.com

“I know where her body is buried.” Tom was sitting in a dark booth at a dive bar on the outskirts of Louis Port. He stopped in to visit Marlena, an old friend of his mother. He had ordered one too many drinks and Marlena stayed after to help him sober up. She had the looks of a woman who I had seen and heard it all. They got around to talking about old times and soon they found themselves on the subject of his father.

“Your mother hated leaving you with him,” she said. Tom’s mother work nights as a nurse at the local hospital. His father worked at the docks loading cargo that was being shipped down river. Jim’s tall frame had become naturally muscular from years of heavy lifting. Tom’s thinness stood in sharp contrast to his father’s imposing body and equally intimidating personality. Already possessing a shy demeanor, Tom became mute whenever he was with him. In turn, Tom’s father did his best to ignore his son. He wasn’t a man who was good at conversation and he made no attempts to keep enough food in the house or cook a meal.

Jim was a heavy drinker and perpetual womanizer. Often times he would head down to the neighborhood tavern leaving his son alone for the night. Sometimes Tommy fell asleep to the hum of the tv set or put himself to bed. Jim would come home drunk, always with company for the night. Tommy could hear them through the walls. Bed creaking. His father moaning. A woman mewing or at times screaming. He covered his ears with a pillow to block out the noises. Some of them would stay around for a few months. They attempted to be friendly but more often than not, they were more interested in fucking his father. Jim would often send Tommy off on his bike during these times telling him to stay out of the house because “Daddy had business to take care of.” He would ride for hours all over town. Joe would meet up with him and they would head to his house where Joe’s mom would cook them up a special treat. Or he would ride over to the Trackside Diner, where Marlena was working at the time. She always made sure he ate a hearty meal, his belly full to bursting.

When he did arrive back at his Dad’s, he and his latest date would often be passed out on the couch with beer cans strewn on the floor and cigarettes still burning in the ashtrays.

His father knew no boundaries. He didn’t seem to care when Tommy would accidentally walk in on his acts in the living room or even the kitchen. “Hey there son, Daddy is just  having some fun with this little lady. You go on back to bed now,” he’d laugh. Or there would be two women with him. Unabashed in their nakedness. “I had trouble choosing. So I thought I would invite both of them home with me.”

Tommy was overwhelmed. He did not have the words to even speak of the situations he witnessed. He was always relieved to be back with his mother, putting those times out of his mind.

And this is what he thought he did that one last time. He was awakened once again by the sounds from his father’s bedroom. This time, however, it was different. Fearful screaming. Furniture banging against the wall. His father making monstrous noises. More yelling. “Please stop! You’re hurting me. Let go of me!”  Then the sound of someone falling to the floor with a loud thud.

Tommy couldn’t help himself. He got out of bed and peeked in the doorway of his father’s room. He saw his father straddled over the bloody, naked body of his latest conquest. A knife was in his hands. When he turned and saw his son, he said, “She wouldn’t listen, son. Help me clean up.” He began to roll her body in a rug. “Go open up the car’s trunk and get a shovel too. Then get in the back seat.”

They drove out to Cedar Grove Forest. He left Tommy in the car while he walked down the path with the shovel. A few minutes later, he came back for her. “Help me out here son. Hold the flashlight. I don’t want to trip on the path with this heavy load.”  Tommy held the light out in front of him as his father walked behind. When they got to the hole, he father said, “Go on back to the car and wait for me.”

Minutes later, Tommy heard the car door open and watched his father slide into the driver’s seat. Then he turned around and brought Tommy’s face close to his. He was filthy and reeked of sweat and blood. Breathing heavily, nearly spitting out the words, he said: “Don’t you ever tell a god damn soul.”

The smell of bleach awakened him. Sunlight streamed across his face. “Get dressed. I am taking you back to your mother’s.” He dropped his son at the curb and sped off. That was the last time he saw his father. It was only three years later, when Tommy was twelve, that he heard about his father’s death in a cheap motel room. He had been found shot to death.

By the time he was done talking, the sun was about to rise. The confession purged his soul. He knew that he would need to talk to the authorities. But first he would go home. He no idea of how he would tell Ella about his past. No clue about his present misdeeds. Their future together was uncertain. But he owed her the truth.

These thoughts were swimming in his sleepless mind as he said goodbye to Marlena and headed out towards the airport. Dazed and distracted, he was unaware of the moose in the middle of the road. He hit it head on, the car flipping over and over into the air until it landed in a ditch. They say you travel towards a white light at the end. But all Tom saw was red.

Sibilance

sibilance

VICTIM                                                                            PERPETRATOR

Stifled                                                                                   Stealthy

Scorned                                                                               Scurrilous

Stunted                                                                                Smarmy

Suppressed                                                                         Slick

Sequestered                                                                       Sleazy

Sundered                                                                             Sly

Secluded                                                                              Snide

Silenced                                                                                Secretive

Baggage Claim

baggage claim

I have been draggin’ around your sensitive ego
Making sure that your bags arrive on time for the dog and pony show
A little suitcase like a brick,
It kinda makes it hard to get a good grip
I drop your troubles off at the conveyor belt,
I’ll hand you a ticket to go get it yourself

At the baggage claim, you got a lot of luggage in your name
When you hit the ground, check the lost and found
Cause it ain’t my problem now
I can’t carry it on, I’ve got a lot of troubles on my own
It’s all over the yard, in the trunk of the car,
I’m packin’ it in, so come and get it.                    ~ Miranda Lambert

For years, I did not realize that my life was a wreck. I was living a lie and was clueless about it. I spent most of my marriage working at keeping it together. Trying to make my man happy. In the process, I was losing myself. When he told me he wanted a divorce, I was of course, devastated.  But quickly, I realized that I did not miss him.  I took a look around the house and noticed that much of the stuff that took up space in my 1200 square foot home belonged to him.  Then I looked in my two car garage and realized the same thing. One more trip to the back of the garage and guess what? More crap! It was extremely difficult to move anywhere on my property without the constant reminders of him.

It took nearly two years and a court order from the time he left for him take away his items. Some things, I simply threw out. He refused to get rid of old lawn mowers and other large pieces so  they made their journey to the end of driveway. With each toss,  I felt more free and my house looked cleaner.  But it takes more than throwing away physical reminders of someone to really rid yourself of pain.

First, I had to admit that I was abused.  Verbal and emotional abuse is a challenge to see or to understand because words and psychological  mind games don’t leave obvious bruises.  Coming to grips with this fact was a huge hurdle that I had to overcome. How could I-an educated intelligent woman not notice or even allow it to happen? I needed to forgive myself first before I could even entertain the idea that I could forgive him.  I would say that peeling back these layers was excruciating. Therapy helps!

During this time (after the divorce was final), I fell in love with the man who is now my fiance’. Through him, I learned to trust and to also stand up for my needs without fear of  negative consequences.  I learned that I was a worthy, lovable woman. This was especially freeing.  I became more and more myself and our relationship grew closer and stronger.

Simultaneously, my former husband continued to act out. He refused to comply with the agreement in any way.  I spent the better part of 4 years  and a significant amount of money advocating for my son’s college education and assuring that both my sons had shelter- among other things.  With each battle, I became less and less emotionally involved. I was beginning to be less of a victim and more of a leader of my own life.  For the most part, it worked. I knew I was doing the right thing for my boys as well as myself.

My oldest is set to graduate from college in a month. My ties to my former husband will continue to be severed. On Easter weekend, I took four boxes of my former life ( all the divorce papers that are no longer needed) to the bonfire. Slowly, each piece was set aflame and turned into ashes. It took longer than expected to burn it all up. In my mind, I knew that it was the way it was supposed to be. Years of pain can take a long time to unfold and transform into something beautiful.

*Special thanks to Kellie Elmore for the inspiration for today’s entry http://kellieelmore.com/2013/04/19/fwf-free-write-friday-baggage-claim/

Everyday Love

loverelationships

Oh, the comfort – the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person – having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.

Dinah Craik, A Life for a Life, 1859

I am glad that Valentine’s Day is over! Don’t get me wrong, I am by nature a hopeless romantic. But I find that our culture celebrates a false notion of love on this particular day. Is love really about jewelry, fancy restaurants, flowers, or the most expensive Hallmark card? Like I said to my fiance’, ” I don’t need this one day for you to show your love for me.”  Moreover, it can make those individuals who are not part of a couple feel left out and even unworthy of love.

I do not believe that love can actually be defined; it is too big of an idea and feeling to be boxed in by a metaphorical dictionary. But I would like to get down to the nitty-gritty of what love really is and its importance in our routine, sometimes mundane lives. During the blizzard last week, I came across the well-known I Corinthians passage:  Love is patient, love is kind, etc.  This is recited ad nauseum at weddings and as a result (at least for me) it has lost its sincerity.  Perhaps if more of us were actually paying attention and practicing its message, we would have more long-lasting and healthy relationships with our partners, friends and family.

I first learned the power and fierceness of love when I became a mother. Children have a way of forcing you to get outside of yourself. My sons taught me the beauty of ordinary moments-holding hands, hugs, smiles and laughter. Reading books, playing games and just being together were enough for both them and me. They taught me patience (although it took a long time!). Each of my sons was born a unique individual-not a reflection of me or their father. They helped me to understand and accept them for who they are and not what our culture expects them to be as males. Through them, I learned that love is transcendental; I will never forget the look of love that my parents had  the moment they first met my sons. Love abides deep within all of us, no doubt.

I learned what love was not through their father. I Corinthians states: “Love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way.”  In healthy partnerships, there is always room for support, rejoicing in one another’s accomplishments, listening to each other’s concerns and always, always kindness. I heard one too many times: “If you don’t like it, there’s the door.” I thought that by loving him and providing him with two beautiful sons, it would be enough to ease his restless heart. But for him it was better to be irritable, resentful and to rejoice in wrongdoing.

The antithesis of abuse is love.  It is through my beloved that I rejoice in truth and true love. When we first started dating, my fiance’ said: “We can make this a vacation relationship or a normal relationship. I want to go to church with you, spend time with the boys and help you with things around the house. I want to meet your friends.” In essence, he wanted to be with me.

Everyday Love is what brings us peace. I am at once astounded and amazed by the positive energy that is brought through the simplest of acts of love. Just yesterday, as I was coming home from the movies, I noticed that two lights were left on for my arrival. My oldest left them on for me as he knew that I would be coming back in the dark. Today, his girlfriend shoveled in front of the garage so I could get things done in the house (writing this piece and baking brownies!). Everyday Love is what keeps us safe and secure. My youngest doesn’t need me to be Superwoman or to provide him with material things; he wants what was partly missing for him in the past four years. A present parent-one who listens, supports his endeavors and provides a soft place to land. As for me, I wanted a level of intimacy with a man that rose above the physical relationship ( not that I any qualms with that!). My fiance’ loves me unconditionally. He believes in me. He is humble in his generosity towards me and my sons. His Everyday Love is at once a nirvana, an oasis and one that never ends.