It was well over three years ago. I was sitting on the inside lane going south. Just a block from home. The traffic light was red.
And suddenly the many secrets just came tumbling out of him.
I kept my eye fixed on the red light trying to get my bearings. Trying to take in all that he was telling me.
I remembered that, not long before, a man from out of town had been sitting at this very light. Going in the opposite direction.
I was told his childhood home had been just a little ways down, on the other side of the road, before they tore it down and businesses took over. And then the street became a six lane highway.
If only the light had been green, he wouldn’t have been sitting there with his car idling. Waiting for the traffic light to change.
I’ve always wondered if, in those last minutes, he might have been thinking of his childhood there. His home that was just a memory.
That decision would be that I would have to leave the home and gardens that I loved. Because what he had said meant I could no longer live with him.
It didn’t happen overnight, my leaving one life to begin another. I had to absorb it all.
You mourn the years you’ve spent together, when really it was a lost cause all along. You just didn’t know it.
In the space of time it took for a traffic light to change, I learned that there had been a secret life taking place since the day we married. The whole damned time.
Maybe the truth had set him free.
But I had to let the facts fall into place. I had to sit for hours at a time in my gardens and accept that he wasn’t alone those weekends he was away.