After the first eight weeks of blogging, 25% of my posts were loving stories about my ex, the narcissist. However, most of the recent posts expose the filthy, dark side of our relationship, and there are so many more painful memories to write about than pleasant ones. I wish it were otherwise, but it isn’t. Since I am running out of nice things to say about David, I am going to indulge myself with yet another happy post.
Let me see. Should I write about the chocolate picnic? Or maybe the all-night Torah studies? Or the time he fell asleep cuddling me? That was great, but the happiest memories are the ones that never happened. You see, I used to have dreams about us. I had visions of us in ten years. I had conversations with our children. I saw our future home and my cats. Often I woke up convinced that it was a premonition and not a fantasy. I knew we had a beautiful future in store for us.
One of the best dreams was about our future daughter, Leibcha. That was his mother’s Hebrew name. He says it means ‘little lion’, but it also contains the word ‘heart’. We could compromise and say she is a lioness with heart. I pictured her at age 13 or so. She wore an ankle-length skirt in a navy blue, had straight hair down to her waist, sort of a dirty blonde like my brother’s, and always had a book in her hand. She was a mischievous child, but still a good girl. I used to imagine that she had pulled a prank at school and gotten in a little trouble with the principal because she was a leader to her classmates. Whatever almost naughty thing she did, they did it with her. Maybe the authorities were worried she would go too far, but I understood how good she really was. She never did anything truly bad, she just liked to play practical jokes on her teachers.
The really fun part about the happy memory that never happened was the difference in parenting styles between me and David. I secretly loved it that our daughter had a mischievous streak like me, while David wanted her to obey the school rules. I saw him as more the respectable parent and myself as the one who rewarded nonconformity. I was so proud of my daughter for being a risk taker, but I also knew how pure and innocent she was. Never would she even consider pulling a prank that was mean or hurtful. She just liked to make surprises. She was a good girl, my lion-hearted, Leibcha.
I can still hear her laughing with her classmates, happy girls squealing over a successful prank on their teacher. I can still feel the pride. That’s my girl. She is going to grow up to be the most beautiful woman, eischet chayil. And I made her with David.
I wonder, on a scale of 1 to 20, just how weird it is to make up memories about children who haven’t even been born yet?
You must log in to post a comment.