Mr. Destiny

I rush through traffic to get home after work. It's a rush type of evening. Of course I still have much work that needs to get done at work, and I think to myself that I should have stayed just 20 minutes longer so tomorrow won't be so stressful for me...but there's also work to be done at home, and like I said, it's a rush type of evening. Mister Man has a shoot to go to, and I a meeting for the CRES organization (which it turns out I'm not going because I am now blogging...and in a sense relaxing, for now, with 3 children playing around me, on me, and at times with my toes and hair).

I walk up to our apartment and smile to myself, thankful that I didn't work 20 minutes longer. The people in there define me and my life, and I would rather spend every minute with them.

At first, it seems vacant inside when I make it through the door until I see heads pop up over the counter. Everyone was ducking in the kitchen searching for something that was lost under a cabinet.
Lettuce has taken over a good chunk of counter space.
Dishes, ready to be put away, are waiting to be put away.
I recall a couple of loads of laundry that I should do tonight.

I start dinner among the crowd in the kitchen, noting tasks to add to my to-do list.
I brown meat, it's tacos tonight, fast and simple.
Mister Man fusses with the smaller food processor and the lettuce.
I start chopping tomatoes, heat the refried beans, place the hard taco shells in the oven, pull out the soft shells, and begin making chalupa shells.
Mister Man sets up the bigger food processor, giving up on the smaller one. Tonight it's foreign to us as we struggle to turn the thing on.
There's art all over the table, someone is making a masterpiece for sure.
Sissy's on my laptop doing 6th grade homework.
There's chattering going on. I can't tell who it's coming from or who it's directed to, but it seems to be coming from every direction.
Don't burn the chalupas, don't burn the chalupas...oh, don't burn the meat. Did I put the shells in the oven?
The chattering gets louder, everyone is in the kitchen again.
Don't burn the shells...
I check the time, he has to leave in 30 minutes.Hurry, hurry, hurry.
...
The chattering is still going on, is it English? I can't tell...wait, did someone say blood?
Mister Man was ambushed by a food processor blade, he's bleeding...Someone's getting bandages, the napkins are blood soaked.
What the hell just happened?
Bandages won't do. Gauze and electrical tape become the solution. (Reminder to self: buy medical tape).
I finish his food, he's able to eat before rushing out.
He kisses me goodbye, I wish him a good shoot, and he kisses me goodbye again. (I love kissing him). I finish getting the girls' dinner done, start my to-do's, and help with homework.

But I was absent during a part of this, experiencing a waking dream:

I'm in Kentucky, in my back yard, with my dogs and my vegetable garden. The damp soil is familiar to me, I know all the neighbors, everything is familiar to me. The leaves on the trees are just starting to turn gold. The air smells of moisture, the way it does in Kentucky. How'd I get here? I go inside, my dogs follow me in. I run my hands over belongings I had given up over a year ago. I pet my dogs, my heart swells. I've missed them. I can hear my kids playing in the front yard, happiness fills me. Where's Mister Man? 

I check the kitchen calendar, August 28, 2010. HB is sleeping in the bedroom.  What happened? Didn't I leave this place? Everything is where it's suppose to be, nothing is packed. There's no evidence that I am leaving. I haven't even started?! There's so much to do, my God, where's Mister Man?!  

I have a decision to make, and I must make it now. The feeling is urgent. Do I stay here and keep my family in tact despite an unhealthy and unhappy marriage? Or do I do it all again, a year's worth of progress towards where I'm suppose to be? Knowing the outcome subdues the doubts and fears I remember having originally.
Yes, yes I'd do it all again, exactly how I did it the first time, every bit of it, in order to be exactly where I just was. 

I walk down the hall towards the bedroom where HB sleeps. It's not suppose to happen for another 5 hours, but I can't wait for that talk, it must happen now. I have to tell him now that I'm ready for the divorce he's been wanting the last 9 years. Just over a week from now I will hear from Mister Man, he will text me, and then he will call, it will be about another woman in his life, but that's okay, that's how it's suppose to happen. I know because I've done this already. I stand in front of the closed door...is it locked? Should I knock? The door is unlocked. I push against the door....

...wait, did someone say blood?

Mister Man was ambushed by a food processor blade, he's bleeding...Someone's getting bandages, the napkins are blood soaked.
What the hell just happened?
Bandages won't do. Gauze and electrical tape become the solution. (Reminder to self: buy medical tape).
I finish his food, he's able to eat before rushing out.
He kisses me goodbye, I wish him a good shoot, and he kisses me goodbye again. I finish getting the girls' dinner done, start my to-do's, and help with homework.

(I love kissing him).