Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.
I often wake in the night here, usually to the sound of coyotes. But last night it was a bird who serenaded me. Surely not a blackbird, but I thought of these lyrics when dawn broke.
My friends, endlessly supportive but not shy to voice their concerns, were very skeptical about my reunion with J last October. “Please protect your heart,” they warned me. And they flat out told him, “Don’t mess with Hashi again. Or else.”
And now, as we separate a second time, they look askance at me as I am still there for him on a daily basis.
“Just don’t take his calls!” some say, as I listen for half an hour to his tales of angst.
“L has a mother! She should be stepping up if J leaves town!” others urge.
But .. but … but … I tell these women who love me. But … I have compassion for him. But … I love the kids. But … I am just trying to conduct myself with grace and courage. It’s OK, I’ll be fine.
Fine. Until the cracks appear, and I cry at work. Until it becomes obvious that my wings are, in fact, broken, and in need of mending.
Before 9AM this morning, a text from J told me that the out-of-town gig may not, in fact, be happening after all. I sat there, stunned. Yes, I’d prefer I could stay in my treehouse. But .. could you please stop messing with me? One day you want me, the next day you want the chicky-babe. One day you’re ready to kill yourself, the next you’re deliriously happy. One day, you’re leaving town and my life is upside down, the next you’re not.
And suddenly it became extremely clear, that, if my wings are ever to heal, I need and want to finally and fully separate from Mr. Rollercoaster.