She looked at the photo of the re-painted, re-refurbished three-story house, and the memories, the darkness, practically the smells of that decade came back so strong, she gasped.
That was her immediate response, except perhaps for the soft edging of an unexpected sadness which rumbled deep in her like distant thunder. She feared the overwhelming possibility of a storm breaking, but she determined not to let it drown her.
It was ,after all, just a house.
A perfect one for all their needs over a decade ago, but never really hers. Never really theirs. She and her husband Peter rented the downstairs portion of the perfect house from her best friend/ex-husband Paul, who owned the entire house and lived in the upstairs flat with his partner Stephen. It had always been a dream of hers and Paul ,even though divorced, to remain good close friends – family really- and to spend the rest of their days in the same city, the same house, sitting on the back porch with glasses of wine, cups of tea , since Paul no longer drank alcohol, and watch their sun go down together, no matter whoever else they had as life partners.
She and Paul were fit together for Life, no matter what.
And so she introduced him to Stephen, after she fell in love with Peter, and the four of them made a sort of 21st century family, complete with dogs, dachshunds, named Sally and Cyrano. Paul and Stephen had a doggie named Foxie. It was an animal family, with free vet service since Stephen was a Manhattan animal doctor of some note.
But somehow, they all four ended up in San Francisco (therein lies many a tale) and one day they found the perfect house .
And then….but then…Paul died.
Quickly and shockingly of lung cancer, and her world sort of shattered. Paul had always been her home, since they first got together in grad school, and she lost most of her emotional bearings when he so quickly left the world. She and Stephen had never really gotten along, no matter how hard they tried, and Peter…well…Peter had no use for Stephen whatsoever, so after Paul died, and the house and entire estate was left really in Stephens hands, so she and Peter got out of that sumptuous house as fast as they could.
It’s amazing how much stuff gets packed into a large house throughout a decade of living.
But it got accomplished and now, after much repair and fixing up, that once dream house was now ready to be sold and when she saw a picture of it sitting there looking all pretty and ready for market, well….certain areas of ground started crumbling beneath her feet. Her entire life with Paul, first as lovers, then spouses, then friends , started flashing before her eyes and waves of nausea swept through her stomach like a vacuum cleaner.
Images of the explosion of a far away star…..the sifting down of whatever mountain of certainty was within her began to met away, and life seemed porous and undependable.
At her age, she didn’t expect such terror.
But then again, who the hell did she think she was?
Only human, she had to gently remind herself.
Only human.