Something Stolen, Something New
January 19, 2013
I worked again today. Embarrassing moment that I hesitate to share, but what the hell. I walked into completely the wrong office, didn’t recognize the staff and asked where to put my coat. When asked who I was and why I was in their office, I explained that I am the doctor, not sure why they looked so confused about that. Oops. That’s what I get for not having enough coffee prior to fill in work.
Dobby planned to spend the morning antiquing with his sister, and then to the coin shop to see about getting my gold coin back. Everything got set back an hour or so due to late opening of the antique place, so I was out of work and they told me about intreguing treasures. A bird that would fit perfectly in the room I am renovating, a war bonds poster ideal for the room he is renovating and fitting with our love of history, skydiving, and WWII. So, once free of the binds of employment, I scurried south to the marketplace.
The coin place closed shortly, so I hung out with Dobby’s sister, while he went off to procure at least answers. While he was gone, she and I hung out and talked, she showed me the bird, which for the $12 it cost, found itself in my purchase bin, and I bartered the war bond poster guy down to $225. A fair price for the largest size poster featuring paratroopers, so right up our alley. That’s when Dobby came back. Hope all over my face, I asked if it worked out.
My heart sank, my guts flipped, my entire body hurt with the pain, knowing that the loss of the coin is final. Permanent. Gone, just like my grandfather. Step nine is making amends. There are no amends for this. A piece of love, one of so few that I have, gone on the wind. Blind rage filled me. How is this fair? How did I deserve this? Bad enough that he betrayed me and destroyed our marriage, but to steal from me too? My hand twitched with the overpowering urge to punch him hard in the face. Instead, I told him to leave me alone for a while, and wandered around the gigantic antique mall.
It took he and his sister 1/2 hour to find me again, as I did not return his calls, and was vague to her texts about where I lurked in the store. Not enough time to fully process the raw pain, but at least my hands comfortably rested in my pockets rather than imagining the crunch of face against knuckles. For the record, I don’t ever engage in violence, never have, with the exception of one time that I slapped him. That was almost ten years ago and guilt still haunts me. His sister bid us farewell, and reminded him to show me ‘the bug’.
He led me to a display case, and there she lay. A sterling silver lightning bug, created by a jeweler from an old serving spoon, several rings, a teaspoon, six fork tines, and a 100 year old lightbulb. Bugs fascinate me, particularly dragonflies, but lightning bugs are so much fun too. I still enjoy catching them in the summer, and setting them free later. Probably frustrates their quest for mates, but oh well, given the number in our area, I doubt that there are any long term ill effects from the coitus interruptus.
She needed to come home with me, she is perfect for my garden Imagine room. I bartered the jeweler down in price, and sold! Something good from the day. And paid for from his bank account.
We went out for lunch, and talked a bit. He’s been grappling with erotic dreams lately, but the rage had subsided, replaced with the deep ache of grief and loss. It still lingers. Someday, this will be a memory of a time of growth and change. Evolution into something better always hurts, I suppose, and so I accept the pain as part of that rather than to resent it or try to extinguish it.