10

I am sitting in my closet.  The walk in closet he built just for me.  Because who needs a bigger bathroom when you can have a walk in closet? I’m leaning against the stack of drawers my father-in-law built.  I’m finally talking to my husband.  It is the same day that Linsa called my mother.  Actual time wise that is.  In my head time has stopped. How could time have passed from morning to evening when my world shattered? He says he needs time.  Deep down I know it doesn’t matter.  He is gone, he just hasn’t fully decided. 

I pray anyway.  I cry anyway.  I lay in the bathroom floor with my face against the cold imported yellow tile.  I scream.  I scream like I’m dying because I am.  My world has collapsed.  That perfect cotillion life in the delta is gone. The house on the perfect street still exists but now I occupy it by myself. And the children, John Thurman “Jack” and Anne Stevenson “Annie” suddenly evaporate.  They existed in our heads but now they never will be.

Divorce is eminent but I am stubborn and know what I believe.  This is not a biblical divorce.  This may be what hurts the worst.  You should trust your husband within human limits.  But, God, he should never fail us and he never does but it sure does feel like it. How can the good little Christian girl from her bubble of perfection have this happen to her? My world is crushed.  My faith shattered.  Everything I have ever known and believed is gone.