Apart from the things happening on the surface of days, this is a remarkable week on other realities as well. On what makes humans cringe with pain, suffocate in frustration, humble to the pure joy of life, surprised about the rewards of being. I remember a line out of an Annie Lennox song:”I knew that I was going to be a legend in my living room”. Ok, this might sound a bit confusing to you, so I shall try to explain:
As you know, my visitors are someone I was in love with many years ago and his wife, whom I met this week for the first time. And this woman is at the end of her line. As the man is – I can but guess – guilt ridden. His feeble attempts to make up for not succeeding in providing what she needs to be happy alternate with streches of just being who he is: a creative, enquiring person who is interested in meeting new people. And an utter failure, an alcoholic of sorts as well as a gambler, betting away his family`s sour earned funds. Mainly earned with this woman’s bare hands work. A nurse on the bedside of the dying. Gutting what we mainly try to not see: Humans die. The woman is regretting all the years spent not living herself, becoming an alcoholic, a co-drinker. Still turning to her husband to provide what she can only obtain herself. I am looking at hell, if there ever was one. Two people chained in what they thought would make them happy but is slowly eating them away.
As it happens, also the man I separated from maybe two years ago and who knows my visitor, joined us one evening to meet up with my guests. As the night ran on, he revealed his feelings for me in a very touching way. Also offering me a bait that is irresistible: being my bridge partner in the upcoming league. As he is a professional player, I shall never get a better offer. But the tricky thing is: can I accept without upsetting the man I am currently with? There you go, another thing to be considered.
My guest, on the occasion of a drink with just the two of us, spills his guts as far as his connection to me is concerned. At which time, his wife calls me to let me know she is about to cut her holidays short, taking a plane home on Monday. As I rush to see, what this is about, she tearfully turns to me for advise. I don’t think I can be of any assistance because I might tell her what I think. Mainly: stop wasting your time with that no good genius of a husband and start living your own life. So I shoo the husband back home to deal with that although a dinner was planned at which they were to meet my new love. Who, upon realising the situation, takes me out of this mess as only he can. Creating breathing space.
To me, all this is quite simple: love doesn’t go away. Whatever turn your life takes, something stays with you that is a part of who you are. And you are solely responsible for your own wellbeing. Love yourself. And that’s that.
Nevertheless: three men expressing their undying love for me within the span of 48 hours made me feel like the blessed among womankind. I was right, after all: I am a legend in my living room.
Annie Lennox, Legend in my living room
floatsome 