by Danise Codekas, copyright2010
It was an unusual day. What started out to be a day of preparing for my visit to San Francisco, turned into a day of observation and remembering things about my past.
Shopping for a new dress and pants, turned into a two and half hour marathon in dressing rooms, aisles blocked by frustrated parents trying to soothe their tired children, and me asking a Spanish speaking couple if the mini-skirt I was holding was blue or black, which turned into a lovely foray, of 15 minutes, with them talking about Peru, where I would like to return to one day. Laughing and talking with them made me feel really good, as they were so delightfully gracious in over-looking some of my faulty Castellan sentence structures.
After escaping the Nordstrom madness, I headed out to meet up with two friends of mine, at Anthony's for lunch. We usually meet up before the holidays, to catch up and delve into personal issues, as men and women do who have been friends for many years. The only problem was the icy roads and parking lot spaces whose divider lines were hidden under piles of snow and ice.
The sun came out for an hour, and Dierks Bentley had just finished singing, Draw Me A Map, when I finally gave up figuring out where the lines were supposed to be, slammed on the brakes so I could have some fun skidding on the ice, parked, and alighted smiling from the Subaru.
After lunch, I came home asking myself if I was crazy for having divested myself of all jewelry given to me by the men in my past. My two friends were wearing jewelry from past husbands, which pretty much could have bought 20 Subaru's, and probably installed Bose speakers in all of them.
Ok, the discussion started when I noticed friend#1's, square cut diamond ring. True, I hate platinum, it has to be yellow gold for me, however, looking at the 4 carat,square cut diamond, with the other 4 carats of supporting diamonds was an OMG moment, even though, mine would have been an emerald or sapphire, with the 8 carats supporting it.
I had never seen it before and she was wearing it on her engagement ring finger. It was from ex-husband #2. Friend#2, had on her diamond wedding ring from ex-husband #3, and it's facets were making rainbows, inside my Ouzo glass, it was so sparkly.
I had on my size 8, Renaissance design, amethyst, ruby, tourmaline, and sapphire ring, which I bought myself, for Christmas, last year, in 22K brushed Venetian gold. So, ok, they win the sparkle contest, however mine won the design and power ring contest. I had to confess, to them, I never had an engagement ring.
I have a tendency to usually say what is on my mind, which is a good thing when ordering ouzo. I prefer Ouzo Barbayanni from Lesvos, however, Ouzo Kefi or Matis, will do. In this case, I asked them both how could they wear rings from 2 men who caused them so much pain. Of course, they came back with the fact they had earned the right to wear them.
I could never do that since remembering the sadness of the past would be tied to the jewelry. They said, I was crazy to have thrown my wedding rings away, as I could have sold them. That wasn't the point, for me. It was a matter of getting to a place in my life where there was no more anger, bitterness, or thoughts of vengeance. I had become happy and whole again.
One ring is at the bottom of the Ganges, and the other, is at the bottom of the Bering Sea. Just one of those moments in time, when you suddenly don't feel anything except the need to release the past and finally let go of all those things that caused pain and tears. I had a new life, was on exciting adventures, and my heart was whole again.
It took a few years, for each arm-stretching fling, out, across those two bodies of water, to occur, however, I felt like I do, whenever I can get a whole row of skips, when skipping a stone across the top of the water. Exhilaration of accomplishment.
None of the jewelry I own is from men, I have been with in the past. Precious pieces from the female hierarchy in my family, all treasured, as are the lovely pieces from nieces and nephews, over the years. There is nothing in my home that came from a past relationship, since I could never stand to look at something "we" had purchased together, and thereby be plunged into a past that is past. Am I crazy? I don't think so.
My memories of those men are mixed with good and bad, and, in the end, that is all I will take with me, anyway. When I travel to San Francisco, Thanksgiving Day, there are streets I shall walk there, and in Berkeley, where I will remember men I have lived with in the past.
Our houses and apartments are still there, occupied by the new ones, who are happy in them, I hope. I never stayed in them, for long, after the end of a relationship. They also held ghosts from the past, and, sometimes, I think, to have stayed would have brought more unhappiness, in moments of memory, resurrected without request.
Driving home, I remembered an argument I had with an old boyfriend, in a grocery store in San Francisco, which began while I was reaching for stalks of fresh, purple asparagus. He blurted out that he had spent the night with his old girlfriend, when he was supposed to be in the grad library, studying for a French exam.
"Voulez-vous ce soir avec des asperges agneau?", I asked him, then threw purple asparagus stalks at him, as he walked away. (Do you want asparagus with the lamb tonight?). I went home, grilled the lamb and asparagus and shared it with my neighbor who had me laughing, at the end of the night, recounting what things she had thrown at her old boyfriend, in San Diego. I never threw another thing at a man, after that. I might have to eat them someday.
We all have things that we hold onto when we end relationships. Usually, it is the fear of becoming involved again and hopefully that only lasts a few years, until we can let go of the past, and see what is right in front of us, smiling and ready to enjoy life with us, anew. We will always make mistakes in these relationships, however, if you are with the right person, they are allowed, and forgiven, before you both fall asleep in one another's arms.
Someday, I will fall asleep in some powerful, warm man's arms, who I pissed off earlier that day. I'll smile knowing I will have to return the favor, of his forgiveness, maybe the next day. However, when I look around at the mementos and gems we have accumulated and shared with one another, I will know they are our energies, unsullied, by men from my past who were not of his ilk, because he understands the power of the past, and how it can sometimes cloak what is before us, in present time.
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