One cup, then you must leave.

I have almost 30 drafts of pages written or half written that I never published, I go through them sometimes and they spark something…like this very short one did- so I am sharing.


It’s been four years next month since I left my husband, it’s been four years of the longest goodbye ever.

I will go months not talking to him, texting him, emailing him, and he will do the same and then when the tide turns, or the moon rises a certain way we reach out from the darkness and connect.   A simple I miss you grazes across my phone and months ago it would put me in to a tail spin for weeks, now I let it enter my heart and leave in one sweep.   I accept it for what it is, a moment of weakness, of vulnerability, those moments we all have when we are breezing through our days and a memory visits us and wants to stay for the afternoon.

I let the memories sit now, invite them for coffee and then tell them kindly they must leave, they don’t live here anymore.

I can’t let them fill the space they used to.

I am preparing for new visitors who are  somewhere out there preparing for me and I must not let the memory’s of us fill my space forever.



2 thoughts on “One cup, then you must leave.

  1. Beautifully written. The imagery that you use evokes a sense of acceptance and peace with the past, present, and future. Inviting the memories in, entertaining them, and then escorting them to the door is a technique that I would like to practice too. I have lots of inner demons that could use a little compassion like that. Thanks for sharing this post.


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