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April 18, 2007 Out of Sync 
I am not so self-centred as to see this interminably drawn-out start to spring as a comment on my personal life, but it meshes with my emotional state just the same. The naked arms of the trees each morning on my way to work, reaching for the sky as if in prayer, seem especially apt: stripped and skeletal. They rouse an affronted sense of beauty. I am waiting for the first hint of green, that first blush, so faint and sheer it is as if it hovers over the branches, still clearly visible. I am waiting for the trout lilies to push their yellow snouts through the dead oak leaves on the woodlot floor and flaunt their yellow star-shaped faces at the sky. The returning robbins aren't waiting, of course. They are skittering through the air across the roads as if daring me to smash them, to land and snatch at something on a lawn. They're nesting. I'm de-nesting. I am packing up my books, throwing out old clothing, deciding what to do with several boxes of outgrown Frances clothes. (Any takers?) Recycling old magazines. Clearing out a few year's worth of unused cosmetics. Making mental lists of things that can't be divided in half, and will need to be replaced. A thousand tiny logistical details which need to be separately torn; and these are only the physical. Looking at schools. Neighbourhoods. Daycares. The cost of transit passes. Apartment buildings. Square footages and floorplans. A copy of our wedding certificate, left out from Erik's last visit to his lawyer. It all has to be done. But I'm impatient. This part confronts me at every turn with the evidence of the life we'd meant to build together. I'm forced to see the bones of the family underneath the padding of stuff. It's been five years since I could look at our wedding photos with unmitigated happiness; but now when I catch them from the corner of my eye I feel guilty, apologetic; I can't take them down and box them up. As if I need to explain and justify to that beaming version of my former self how things have come to take this turn. Trees in winter aren't actually dead. Their aesthetic beauty lies uneasily next to the metaphorical quality of death in the stark bony limbs; we appreciate them in part because in spring they come to life again. Likewise, the family is not actually dead. It's only dying, on its way to becoming something else. I'm waiting for the the trout lilies. Posted by Andrea at April 18, 2007 6:01 AM under Me EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments Beautifully written! *hugs* Posted by: Miche at April 18, 2007 7:42 AM
A beautifully written post that truly does capture the difficulty of what you are doing. I never did go through the wedding pictures. I simply packed them away with the thought that one day I would give them to Kid L. Posted by: ccw at April 18, 2007 8:20 AM
Those trout lillies will bloom like you've never seen them bloom before! Posted by: LauraJ at April 18, 2007 8:45 AM
"It's only dying, on its way to becoming something else." That's a great way of looking at things. It's the cycle of rebirth that makes me love the spring so... I hope the trout lillies are extra beautiful for you this year. Posted by: suze at April 18, 2007 2:23 PM
I've also been impatient for some green, something to show that there's newness and burgeoning in the ground and the potential for it in my life. Since I suffer with SAD this isn't just metaphor. Instead snow in Philadelphia on what should be our last frost date. (And I get a certain number of hits on "last frost date.") Posted by: Sheila at April 18, 2007 2:40 PM
Wow. Beautifully said.... Posted by: Catherine at April 18, 2007 8:23 PM
I am really so impressed with this journey that you are taking Posted by: fluttercrafts at April 18, 2007 9:04 PM
I have done the dividing once before myself. It was hard, but the new thing that emerged once it was over is better by far. Posted by: Oh, The Joys at April 18, 2007 9:23 PM
The division of stuff - not the house, the car, the furniture, but the little stuff, the books, the dishes, the photos - is the death knell for a marriage. I've had to do that. It sucks, even when you're the one ending it. Posted by: julia at April 18, 2007 11:10 PM
Many a persons resolve has fallen at the hurdle of the practicalities of separating lives. It's good to see that you've recognised it and that you're facing it head on. Hang in there duck! Amy Posted by: Amy at April 19, 2007 4:18 AM
Five days of sun forecast! I hope you and Frances enjoy every minute of it. I am looking for trout lilies myself now that the foot of snow we got on Monday has reduced itself to piles in the shade. Posted by: Mary G at April 19, 2007 7:50 AM
Suze and Mary already said what I was going to say, but I'm not above redundancy. Except I was going to say that I would remove the concept of the family 'dying' entirely - but I find the concept of it evolving into some new creature comforting. And the sun today - my god, the sun! It's lovely outside here, and I know my mood has been buoyed by it. Wishing the same for you... Posted by: DaniGirl at April 19, 2007 11:50 AM
A family transformed into something else. Into and entity that can sustain itself. Spring will come. Summer will follow. Posted by: Mad Hatter at April 19, 2007 12:06 PM
Hi, I first stumbled upon your blog over a year ago when a friend's blog had linked to it. I've been following ever since, sometimes only occasionally, and these days more often. As someone interested in creative writing, I want to tell you how much I enjoy your blog, and to offer a suggestion regarding this entry. I think that it would have been stronger without the paragraph beginning "Trees in winter aren't actually dead" or the paragraph to follow. If you had simply ended with "I'm waiting for the trout lilies", I, the reader, would likely still have reached the same meaning. And with more satisfaction. I have a master's degree in English literature from McGill, but that doesn't mean anyone should head my advice :) Hoping that I haven't tread where I am not welcome, Karla Posted by: Karla at April 20, 2007 1:49 PM
You know what? I think you're right. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Posted by: Andrea at April 20, 2007 1:53 PM
great post. what size are the outgrown frances clothes? Posted by: marianne at April 21, 2007 8:05 AM
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