It was well over three years ago. I was sitting on the inside lane going south. Just a few blocks from home. The traffic light was red. And the many secrets just came tumbling out.
I kept my eye fixed on the red light, trying to get my bearings. Trying to take in all that he was telling me.
I remembered that, not long before, a man from out of town had been sitting at this very light. Going in the opposite direction.
I was told his childhood home had been just a little ways down, on the other side of the road, before they tore it down and businesses took over. And the street became a six lane highway.
If only the light had been green, he wouldn't have been sitting there with his car idling, waiting for the traffic light to change.
I've always wondered if, in those last minutes, he might have been thinking of his childhood there, his home just a memory now. Before his life abruptly ended for no reason at all.
I got out and rushed ahead of him to my gardens, where I could be alone to think. I could not bear to look at him. I don't think I ever looked straight at him again.
Before you have to leave the home that you love.
In the space of time it took for a traffic light to change that day after a normal weekend lunch, I learned that there had been a secret life taking place since the day we married. The whole damned time.
But I had to let the facts fall into place. I had to sit for hours at a time in my gardens and accept that those weekends he was away, he wasn't alone.