Sometimes I feel like Alice from Lewis Carol's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland".
I close my eyes and imagine the white rabbit in the back garden, looking at me through his monocle and gesturing for me to follow him, while checking his pocket-watch, worrying that he is going to be late. I think of leaving everything I'm doing behind, getting up and brushing the dirt off my trousers, a wondrous look on my face, and then following in the steps of the rabbit, not thinking of anything, or anyone. Not any more. Will I miss my beloved Michael, when I go where he can never reach me, turn into the little lost girl, who fell down that rabbit hole? Yes, I would. I would miss him greatly and dearly, with all my heart and everything I am. But I will also be able to be someone else... Someone new. Some days that's all you want, isn't it?
To be someone that you're not. If only for a little while.
In my fantasy, falling down the rabbit's hole feels like bungee-jumping, like wild sky-diving, an adventure that could defy your life. I fall to my feet and look around, only to find out that upside down is down, and where the floor should be there's the ceiling. Paving stones in black and white form a chess-like "board" under my feet and there is a door with million locks... Or million locks with only one door, depending on how you choose to look at it. I make my way to this door, these locks, and look around for a key that would open one of them, if not any of them. I know that's not how it's in the story, but it doesn't matter... This is my story. My dream, my fantasy. My adventure.
I blink my eyes and count to ten, and now there is a key, where there was none. I reach out for it, my hand trembling, my heart racing and wrap my fingers around it...
Walking to the door. Echoes. Voices. Thoughts and memories. Reaching out to unlock one of all those locks. Putting the key inside. It fits perfectly. Wrapping my fingers around the handle. Adrenaline is pumping in my veins. My heart is beating fast and faster. So fast. I brace myself to open the door, to take that last step...
Then I remember my wedding vows to Michael and lose the desire to open that door. To turn this key. I remember why I love my life. Why I love him.
This fantasy always comes after we've had a fight. And that's why I'm sharing it right now. Me and Michael had a fight last night. What we fought about? I don't remember. It was something small, insignificant and unimportant, that turned into something... more. And in the same time, into something less. Why do we fight with the ones we love? Is it because of all those things that always stay unsaid? Is it because subconsciously we're afraid that if we're too happy, then something will inevitably break? So we push, and poke, and prod, until something does break. Until I break my own heart.
These thought were filling my head, when I got up this morning. Michael had left for work, without waking me up. No "good morning", or "goodbye". No kisses or sweet nothings whispered in my ear. Nothing. His phone was off, as if the silence was supposed to punish me.
Did I feel the need to punish him? I mused about it, while doing some long-postponed end of tenancy cleaning. Throwing things away can be very therapeutic, when you're feeling like your whole world is falling apart. It can also provide a way to let your anger and frustration out, to serve as a symbol of getting rid of them as well. That's always helped me cool down, even when I was a little girl. But today it didn't seem to do a thing for my mood. So I let everything where it was in the moment, changed into a nicer pair of clothes, and went out.
There's enough end of tenancy London services to come and finish off what I'd started.
I roamed the streets until the light dimmed and the air got chillier, and then made my way back home. I had gone to that imaginary door again, but had been unable to unlock it. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't force myself to do it. That should count for something, right?
Michael was waiting for me at home. There were no words. No apologies. No meaningless accusations. I was in his arms before I could realise what I was doing it, and he was kissing me like there was no tomorrow. As if I was the air and he'd been suffocating without me. I kissed him just as hard, as desperately.
Then he pulled away and we both said "I'm sorry". And just like that, it seemed like last night's fight had never happened. Or as if it had happened to somebody else. I can't tell you what we did after that...
...but I do know that in one moment I threw away that key and decided to keep that door closed forever.
Sometimes the greatest adventure, is living your own life.
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