Kicked in the Taco & a Side of Sour Cream Dreams

I apologize profusely for the lack of regular urban updates this past week (it’s nice to know you care) but I think that John Lennon put it best when he sang that “life is what happens to you when you’re busy making other plans” or if you prefer Frank Black; “I got kicked in the taco”. Recurring readers will know that I am shuffling off to the bustling burbs within the coming weeks, but what even my most supportive of pals don’t know until now is that I will be making this move without the wife.

You must first understand that we were never married to begin with (so cast your dispersions elsewhere) and that “wife” was a nickname that I bestowed upon her back when intention dictated that we would one day wind up chapel side one sunny afternoon. I have spent 1/6 of my entire life with this one woman and this is staggeringly hard to handle as it is without having to hand over a deadly divorce or go tooth and nail with my best friend for who gets the tea pot. With all sincerity, this has been a long time coming but it doesn’t make it any easier on the soul. It’s not that we didn’t go to task as a team, but we realized that we may be dying as individuals as a result and therein lays the root of our separation. As a unit we pursued happiness at the expense of our own wants, dreams and ultimately our life together. I’m just thankful that we are both adult enough to identify where our white picket fence turned to barbwire before it cut us both deeper than it already has.

We’re still friends (the best of, as cliché as that sounds) - we still share the same roof and as we pack up our lives for each others ultimate move – me to the outskirts and hers to the other side of the country – we collect the icons of our life together like archeologists cataloguing the remnants from some lost civilization unearthed many moons later. Relics from another time - artifacts detailing our existence, whereabouts and headspace – they collect darkness in the bottom of a box instead of on display in some marital misfortune museum. We share a laugh as we uncover yellowing movie tickets, restaurant receipts and photographs – our legacy.

Next steps are as new to us as first ones from an infant but just as rehearsed as those from a ballerina, I guess the real question is where do we go from here? The nails in the coffin are closer to the corpse than ever, the death knell has sung its song to the wild winds and we’ll continue our lives apart but ever closer for having been here together – no matter where we drift from this point on.

We're sorry to those who've invested so much in us and hope that you don't feel that it was all in vain. Don't look at us as a failure, we sure don't, just trust that we'll make it all up to you one day as individuals and accept our gratitude.

iPod played “Spoon - Everything Hits at Once” while posting