verbalternate or waver between different opinions or actions; be indecisive.
"I had for a time vacillated between teaching and journalism"
In a way, I was.
This week my baby turns one.
It has officially been a year and a half since I wrote here.
Literally everything in my life is different.
For a time, after the baby was born, everything was good. It was better than ever. I think they call that a honeymoon period. Then things got bad again, just like they had been on an off for years.
One night we fought about orange curtains. My weary, frazzled to the bone body simply couldn't take it anymore. As the curtains lay dismantled on the dining room floor, we screamed at each other. Walls got damaged. Doors broken. And at the end I lay, like the orange curtains, dismantled on the bedroom floor, a chunk of my own hair grasped firmly in my fist.
The baby, somehow, did not wake. I knew in my heart of hearts that we would never again get so lucky.
In the morning Husband and I agreed that we couldn't - shouldn't - be doing this anymore. It was time to make good on all previous threats.
The baby and I moved out two weeks later.
Everything is different now. The little house (as we call my apartment) is airy and bright. I have decorated it in jewel tones and shimmering colors and photographs of family. Baby's bedroom was christened with two giant Dr. Seuss murals. I am pouring love into it, painting over the pain I feel every time I pull up to what was once my home. The weeping cherry tree still frames the front door. The Azealas just finished blooming. In the backyard there is a rose that I planted on my first mother's day.
None of that belongs to me anymore.
But my son is so happy. Truly, amongst all the little boys I know he is one of the happiest. His little infectious laugh - an echo of my mother's family - is proof positive that I have done the right thing.
To heal, I have begun writing again. Here. There. On scraps of paper. In little journals. I need it, I realized. I have always. So during this time of change, during yet another moment of evolution, I will emote. I will purge and tell stories and dream and begin to live again. I will let the light that I've covered for so many years burst forth.
I'm a mommy now. That is a story for tomorrow. Today I am just a woman, learning how to live again.