Closing Doors
two decades after our divorce
I'm alone in the old house that
my ex-husband willed to the kids,
sitting at the table, causally looking through
old letters we didn't know he'd saved.
A bit of a hoarder, he held onto everything,
except his marriage.
I don't know why I agreed to do this
Halfway through the pile there is a curious letter,
from 30 years ago, addressed to our former pastor.
The address is in my mother's flowery handwriting.
She died 25 years ago, the year of my divorce.
you could say I divorced her the year before
when I decided I'd withstood her last tirade:
"You never loved me;" You never respected me;"
"You always wanted me dead."
I had called to plan her birthday outing.
My curiosity piqued, I opened the letter. "Dear Pastor J.
"Please pray for my daughter.
And for me.
I did something terrible. I know God will never forgive me."
Two pages confessing what a "dirty, rotten" person she is.
she doesn't say what her sin was
I feel that old, almost forgotten, pit in my stomach.
I fold the letter, slide it back in the envelope,
quietly lay it on the table.
and stare....
off into nowhere...
Abruptly, the sound of a neighbor's car door slamming
pulls me back.
I pick up the next letter, also from her, addressed to me,
dated 3 days prior to the pastor's.
"Dear Miss PERFECT! This is the third time
you've tried to have me arrested!"
"You're hardhearted...." "accused me of trying
to kill the babies..." "I'll never enter your home again....!"
my eyes are blurred by memories I thought
I had locked away,
of a mother who couldn't see my love and
a man who didn't want it.
I gather the stack of letters,
hold them tight to my chest,
walk outside to the recycling bin and listen
to the muffled clatter as I heave them in.
Letting the lid bang shut, I walk back into the house.
closing the door behind me.
~Naida Lavon
2018