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I want to put my roots down somewhere that matters to me

When I have met people, I have fallen in love with all of them in some way.

A ritual, a glance, a blessing, an error.

Some years ago when I thought I met the “one”, whose errors and beauty I loved, had me paid well with plenty of life experience. These days he doesn’t let me forget how important he is as Shiyara’s father and that I once “belonged” to him. We call him for her and he asks why I don’t want to talk to him. I talk and somehow he finds a way to yell at me that I am not his wife. I hang up. I can’t say it doesn’t bother me to try at civility and fail almost at every encounter but there is no point fighting so I send him a text: Respect me because as far as you are concerned, I am just a mother.

I have been feeling a pebble in the shoe of my heart for the last few months for a man. All my entries, all my thoughts go to him. He comes when he needs me and I happily oblige but I am on my own when I need someone. With my heart open I am vulnerable and it’s very inconvinent.

My daughter runs around the house. Hysterically laughing when I grab her, making faces, telling stories, listening to me, showering me with kisses and affection. We are on our own and there isn’t an umbrella, a marriage or a male guardian.

Marriage brings safety and comforts us, but we are really truly on our own.

I am not unique. I want the illusion of safety and the man I love to love me back with actions, phone calls, comfort, attention.

My friend Simo, now long since married let me know once that I was crying over having lost a million when I still had 4.

To his credit I was crying about losing my harem of boyfriends. Him included. I didn’t have much to complain about and he pointed me in the right direction.

I hear he has a kid now. I tell myself that he’s not perfect and it would have never worked even though he would have had my back and he always taught me something and admired me at the same time. I think that I would quite like that.

I am not sweating it. I can be the bag lady or the whore…not a problem for me how you want to write it, but I want to be left alone or taken in but this in the middle is uncomfortable.

I wish I had wisdom but I don’t. Wisdom comes when you have arrived to a realization and I haven’t yet.

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