Traverse: A travel diary

There has to be one. This has definitely been a challenging first two days of 2012, not to mention end of 2011.

How do I write about this? How do I explain that today in a matter of minutes around high noon I learned of three big truths that hubby has been keeping from me for 3.5 years each, concurrently. "Big truths" being kept from me = AKA "lies."

How do I write about memories of the past 3.5 years, when -- in their recollection I must now re-frame to incorporate the new knowledge I didn't have at the time? The context it provides.

How do I explain the unbidden questions that keep intruding upon my thoughts, such as "When did he have time to sneak out of work for this?" "How did he appear when he got home from work on those days?" "What could I have done to make it less necessary for him to go to peep shows before, during, after work every couple of weeks for 3.5 years?" "Or to meet with his ex-girlfriend every few weeks for the same duration?" And other lies.

And what do I want to do next? Do I stay? Do I go? Do I find a temporary respite? Do I ask him to leave for a while? Do I shrug it off? What is next for me?

As secrets go, this isn't close to being the worst kind there are. I've heard and read about stories far worse and far more damaging than this -- where kids were involved, where second families were created, where thousands of dollars were lost over a husband's misguided behavior.

If you're as sick as your secrets, he can't be that sick.

But in the context of my history with hubby, this explains a lot, even if it is not immediately clear what road to take next, or where to exit, or which direction to face.

The good news is hubby's been in recovery for about half a year. The bad news is this will never go away. Addiction is addiction, and it goes where he goes, and if he goes with me, then it stays with me. So I can travel anywhere, to the ends of the earth and back, but unless I extricate myself from this prickly little issue that isn't mine, it becomes mine.

I think the way you recover from major or minor knock-outs is just to let it sink in, adjust to it, accept it, and let it fade into the background.

Eventually it becomes just another object in the rear-view mirror, alternately gaining ground and receding into the distance. I may never lose sight of it, but maybe if I direct my gaze forward, other and possibly more interesting turns will manifest in the road, unexpected exits to take, new scenery to distract me, and brighter lights at the end of each dark tunnel.

Happy new year. Here's to 2012.

On a recent trip to visit family, during a heat wave, hubby and I and a couple of other relatives, including a 4-year-old boy, attended a Pittsburgh Pirates game. Unfortunately, the home team lost, but the experience of being at the ballpark with an energetic little tyke makes the cost of entry worthwhile.

The heat of the afternoon sun was eased earlier that day by an invitation to take a dip in a neighbor's swimming pool. That, and a few fortunate passing clouds that moved in as the day wore on and brought a thunderstorm with the late afternoon.

By game time, there was lightning and thunder and a rain delay. Even when the rain inevitably arrived, we were safe and secure in our covered seats. The game started after about a half-hour, but we had already begun indulging in our fair share of ballpark franks, popcorn, pizza, beer, and soda -- just some of the joys of a hot July night.

Yesterday I was on the upper west side of Manhattan and took some pictures.
This one (right) is the steeple of a church at 96th Street & Broadway.

Spontaneously in the late morning on the Sunday of a warm holiday weekend, hubby and I (along with our eager canine) took took an hour-and-a-half road trip to New Hope, the artsy tourist town in rural eastern Pennsylvania that is home to a playhouse, tattoo parlors, shops, restaurants, B&Bs, historic homes, a Starbucks, pricey parking lots, and several other charms. A repeat visit for me, this was the first visit for him.

By the time we arrived, we were a little hungry. After putting money in a meter for an hour longer than we would need it for, we began our stroll along Main Street looking for a pet-friendly lunch spot (which it turns out most of them were), but as it neared the mid-afternoon, the outside temperature had climbed into the mid-80s and humid. Since our first choice for lunch had a thirty-minute wait, we moved on in favor of covering more ground and getting fed more quickly.

We wandered down one side of the narrow sidewalk and back up the other, going in to a couple of shops that were welcoming to four-legged pals.

We spent the next hour meandering down the main street, seeing both natural and somewhat unnatural sights and headed back to the car. After that hour of not really finding anything that appealed precisely to what we wanted (not for lack of choice... more like lack of decisiveness on our parts), we decided to make our way back to the car park and call it an afternoon.

On the ride back to our urban enclave, hubby incisively commented that we were returning from New Hope to No Hope.