It’s trigger season- that lovely time of the year when all of my Facebook memories show me visiting with my family and friends in Indiana and Utah right before the axe dropped. It’s full of updates about my pool. The trip out to Virginia to buy a house. Our bucket list of things to do before we moved. Pictures of our house in Utah up for sale. Pictures of us moving into our new home in Virginia. Pictures of all of our new furniture and how I decorated my house. It’s right around the time I found out about Harley the first time. It’s June now which means, not D Day, but the day he texted me to tell me he had lost his job and wouldn’t be sending anymore money my way. June 10th. And Father’s Day. Always a jolly holiday in our household. I’ve still got pictures of me renting a U-Haul so the kids and I could move to Indiana after Jerry Lee lost his job to look forward to in late July and August is the month of both of my D-Days- the 10th and the 14th. So many memories to trudge through. Or avoid.
This year, though, it’s been kinda “meh”. Maybe I’m simply too busy with work. I had already put in 38 or 39 hours by the time I logged onto the computer Thursday morning. It’s going to be a hell of a week this week, too.
June 10th came and went with no fanfare, which is exactly what I want. When it first happened it overshadowed DDay as the worst day ever. I thought that day would be a looming anniversary forever. An indelible memory. But once again it passed with almost no notice. I was actually sitting on the couch and I thought to myself, “Oh! Did I completely miss it this year?” I was quite excited and happy. And then I realized it was June 10th. So, it’s still there slightly niggling at my brain, but it’s like a cobweb that I can swipe away.
Today was Father’s Day. It was no biggie. I guess I’ve been fortunate in that I haven’t had to deal with my kids happily trotting off with Jerry Lee and Harley, playing happy new family. I do, however, think about my kids and the fact that their father is such a piece of shit. I’ve said before it will never NOT hurt when he hurts my kids. The fact that neither of my children has a real father they can rely on hurts them, so it hurts me. I believe that in past years Rock Star and Picasso would acknowledge me on Father’s Day. One year I bought myself a Father’s Day gift. This year, though, it was very “meh”. None of us acknowledged it. It was just another day.
It’s nice when it gets to that point. It’s also a little weird. I often think it should mean more. I’m glad it doesn’t.
Next month will mark 6 years since I moved back to Indiana. It will also mark 8 years since we left Utah. I was all set to write a maudlin post next month about how July marks a turning point. We’ve been out of Utah as long as we lived there and every day henceforth would mark more time out of Utah, than in. Perhaps that’s when it becomes a reality. You realize the life you left behind has been gone longer than you had it.
Then I did the math and realized that we weren’t there for a full 8 years. We moved there in November of 2006. We moved to Virginia in July of 2014. We were in Utah 7 years and 8 months. Without even realizing it we were already living this new life outside of Utah longer than we had been living our lives in Utah. Once the math was done and I acknowledged that July wouldn’t be the start of the time clock, that the countdown clock had in fact already begun, it quickly became another “meh” moment. No use in reminiscing. What’s done is done.
It is getting late and I have another long day tomorrow.