Ten Years

I don't really think about him that much anymore. When I see an old Thunderbird driving down the street, which isn't that often. On a run when I see a garage door cocked in its track. When we're telling redneck stories, definitely. I didn't remember him on his birthday back in February. (Well, not until March, anyway.) I didn't think about him on August 4. But I guess I couldn't escape him today. We would have been married 10 years today.

I no longer place the blame for the split squarely on his shoulders. It's never just one person's fault, is it? It was never quite right. Two totally different personalities trying to mesh, turning toxic toward each other near the end. Don't get me wrong: the chicken-shit way he went about things was completely ball-less. But I see now that it wasn't all him, and, as much bile as it produces to say this, he was right to leave. What else can you do when you don't really like each other anymore, much less *love* each other? You cash in your chips and leave the table.

After three years, there's nothing left. No more hate, not really any more hurt. I never got "closure," whatever the hell THAT is, but it's okay. If it weren't for him, at least partly, I wouldn't have become the person I am now, and I like me now. I learned a *lot* from our relationship, so I'll have a leg up if I ever get another chance at this love/couple thing. So even though my mom loves to remind me about how I wasted seven years of my life with him, I don't consider it a waste because I'll know how to avoid the same mistakes next time around.

"But the struggles make me stronger
And the changes make me wise
And happiness has its own way
Of taking its sweet time
Life ain't always beautiful
But I know I'll be fine
Life ain't always beautiful
But it's a beautifu ride"
--Gary Allan