Beautiful Shells on the Beach Reminded Me of My Life
But each one I turned over was empty
Because I married so young I hadn’t even known yet who I was, because I craved conversation more stimulating than what to watch on television — a good debate, even a heated argument — because I was tired of having to take the lead, because I wanted a partner with drive at least equal to mine, and, because I was intellectually frustrated, I wanted a divorce.
The years following the births of our daughters, both born with major medical problems and physical challenges, had been consumed with hospitals, surgeries, doctors, and constant concern, and I gave little thought to my happiness or personal needs.
He was a good husband and a loving father, but during that time, I came to realize he and I were on unequal footing. Had it not been for a thrice verified breast cancer diagnosis which was proven wrong during what was to have been a radical mastectomy, I doubt I’d have faced that fact.
It could have been cancer, I thought. I could die in a car accident or suffer a brain aneurysm. I could die tomorrow, and I would die unhappy.
My parents were horrified. They’d watch the children, they said, urged my husband and me to get away together for a few days of quality time, begged me to reconsider. I…
