Broken Record

"When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?" 

— Chuck Palahniuk 

"I remember awakening one morning and finding everything smeared with the color of forgotten love."
— Charles Bukowski 

The plan: My dad would watch Amelia. Sky and I would go out, maybe to a cozy Italian place near campus, or maybe a place downtown that is known for their crepes. Maybe we would go up the street and listen to Irish folk songs at a pub. We would try to laugh and build on the fragile present we have instead of the dust of the past.

I woke up in the morning so full of hope. I actually found myself a bit excited for the day. While Sky was at work, I took the top layer of the wedding cake and set it on a pretty stand on the table. I wrapped his present, a couple pairs of mittens and a hat, in shiny silver paper and iridescent ribbon. The card was the best I could find, since so many anniversary cards say things like, "I wouldn't trade a minute of it." I wrote something about protecting our hearts.

The reality: I dropped Amelia off at my dad's, and came back home to talk out the fight Sky and I just had. He always brings up voluntary deployments as some sort of cruel joke, but this time we discussed him going on one as a way to somehow stay married. I pointed out that it probably isn't a good marriage if the only hope for it is him being shell shocked in a fort, on the other side of the world for a year or two. And what good is it for us to try? I've had my daughter's birth stolen from me, my birthday, our first family Christmas, New Year's, our first anniversary...should I really expect a good Valentine's Day?

There was no cozy Italian place. There was no laughter. Instead, there was a boy apologizing to a girl, trying to explain to her why he is still doing many of the things that break her heart apart. There was a girl rushing around the apartment, grabbing anything that reminded her of their relationship, and slamming it into the trashcan.

A day that should have been filled with roses and notes and delicate desserts was long forgotten. There were no sweet kisses or new traditions. There was nothing that was promised. Instead, a McDonald's cheeseburger in the drive-thru, a headache from all the crying, and waking up to a new day full of old worries.

It doesn't make sense. Nothing is making sense. I'm getting worn out from trying to be happy.