Tre L. Loadholt

Tonight is my last night in the home I have shared with D and our girl. I’m here, and we are going to do the bills together. But tomorrow? I’ve got to get out of the nest.

I feel like the Baby Bird in “Are You My Mother?”

Scared and hopeful and scared scared scared. I mean: of COURSE I can do this. I’m 51. I’ve stared Death down twice, and won. I’ve been, essentially, on my own for 38 years. Except those times I wasn’t. When I had someone to prop me up.

I know this sounds like so much whining. It’s not meant to be that. It’s just me, acknowledging my fear, despite my strength.

I will leave you with this:

I left my husband today. The man I married in 2000. The man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with, as my partner in crime. The man who has loved me harder and deeper than most anyone could. The man who I love with all my heart: until I couldn’t. The man who gave me this child; now a beautiful young woman, with her own hopes and desires and dreams and needs. The man who is there to lift me up in my darkest moments, because he does truly and deeply love me and wants the best for me. I want him to know that yes: I love you, too. I too will always have your back. I too will always keep you safe and warm. You and I and We are entwined like slim threads on a quilt; bound, holding this blanket of safety together, soft and strong as a feather.

I love you, D. I always will.

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