Standing on the porch or our log cabin on
the lake with my wolfdog ShyAnne, I feel so
cold. I feel dead inside but I know my heart
is still beating because with each beat I feel
it breaking into a thousand pieces. The pain
is overwelming but I can't cry. All I can do
is watch as Joe walks toward his truck, gets
in, and starts to drive away without so much
as a glance back.
As Joe's truck disappears from sight, I
glance over the toward the shore where
there, in misty form, stands my grandmother
who has been dead these so many years.
She is smiling that gentle smile of comfort
that she always does when my life is
suddenly turned upside
down.
I turn to go back inside when it dawns on me
that this is my reoccuring dream. The one I
had two years prior to coming here to be
with Joe. The dream was one of peace and
love, not heartache and pain though. At
that time, I took it as a sign from the above
that all would be as it should in my new life.
That it was alright to leave the old life of
security and comfort far behind and embark
on this adventure with Joe. That somehow
he would change and be the man I knew he
was deep
down inside.
Going inside our log cabin that Joe built, I
look around and see all the familiar things.
There is the coffee cup he left on the table,
the crumpled bed where we had lain
together last night, the quilt I had made, still
on the floor beside the fireplace where we
had made love
that one last time before he told me the
awful truth. All seemed as it should be in
the early morning hours except that instead
of Joe driving off to work, he was driving off
to a new life. One that I would never be a
part of.
Why had I not seen the signs. They were
there. The late nights at work, the I have a
busy Saturday ahead of me and then I might
as well hang out with the guys that I haven't
seen since we moved to the boonies.
Did I just not want to acknowledge the signs
or was I blinded by love? I think it was a
combination of being totally in love and
trusting Joe to be as faithful as I was to
him. I was so wrapped up in making this
man happy and giving him a loving home
that I couldn't see what was happening
outside of this little world we had built. Now
this perfect world filled with love and peace
was shattered. Who shattered it? Her name
was Debbie. Debbie with the pretty long
blonde hair and perfect figure. Debbie the
exotic dancer who I never could compete
with in a million years. I was the dependable
nerd type who was happiest being at home,
doing hobbies, caring for my man and
communing
with nature. I couldn't compete in the looks
department either with my less than perfect
figure and my long black hair. Of course I
could be a blonde like Debbie as all it would
take is a little bleach like she used. No use
being catty, what was done was done and
Joe
chose her over me.
Sitting down on the bed that was still warm
from Joe's body and smelled of Joe, I am
finally able to cry. As I hug the pillow and
sob into it pretending that I am once more
laying in the comforting and strong arms of
Joe, ShyAnne jumps on the bed and lays her
furry body next to mine. ShyAnne offers me
comfort on a primevil
level. I am her pup for now and she gives
me all the comfort she can provide. I love
her for it and know that she loves me with
an unconditional love and that she will never
leave me as Joe has.
