When Freedom Rings

Lately, I’ve taken to sleeping in … late. My fabulous bed refuses to release me daily to the New York City days. Most of the time, I can’t resist. I roll around the pillow-top exterior beneath my old down comforter (and comfort it does!). When Daniel leaves each morning, I listen to NPR and conquer the entirety of the queen-sized surface with my body's random positions. Evey morning is like a day off of everything. In bed, there are few obligations. I’ve never felt freer.

Then, there are the other reminders of freedom. Telephone calls from exes whom I’ve escaped herald a sort of bittersweet nostalgia. These calls are welcomed with some reservations. It’s always a toss up: the memories they bring can be refreshing and romantic. Or, the calls remind you of what you fought to be but what never really was.

It’s no surprise that I have received a few of these calls recently. Cross-country conversations with Keith since our split are dangerously familiar. He became part of my home for over a year. He also broke that home, leaving me alone to rebuild it without the trust that I naturally granted to men. Looking back from here makes me wonder how I ever found myself there.

My relationship with the other caller was always a little less defined. Although our relationships spans five years this month, we never settled on a particular status. In an odd attempt to stay distant, we dabbled in an intimacy that has left us closer than either of us expected. In Austin, he was easily everywhere. In New York, it’s clear that he wants his absence to be felt. His task is inevitably more difficult.

As I write from my cozy bed, I can even now hear them speaking to me. Among the recent voices of both men, I realize how close I once came to losing myself. They provided me with tremendous growth and experiences. After years of pain and utter confusion, I provided me with a way out. It’s a freedom so rare that it's worth shopping about.