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Show 7/*" Late that summer, Brian and I planned a vacation in the woods of the Pacific Northwest. It was a l a s t attempt to heal our marriage, to l e s s e n the almost commonplace talk of separation, to diminish the growing gap of divided interests and attitudes. I was wrestling with my e a r l y stand against divorce, and conceded that Brian and I should be freed of each other if we could not promote mutual growth. I was t e r r i b ly unhappy. Brian seemed to augment my l o n e l i n e s s , rather than alleviate i t , and no friendship had f i l l e d the space where ray family belonged. The consonance of my childhood seemed irreplaceably l o s t . ~ _ That white house haven, a^pro u c e d ^ dispersions of s p i r i t such as those posed by ray life with Brian. I was overwhelmed by Brian's needs, especially when I considered the d i s p a r i t i e s in our values. He preferred fishing alone on a Sunday afternoon to taking a drive with his wife and children. Even my shallow dreams of monogamy were put to rout. We ^ n • disagree^about everything. I seemed to have become the focus of his rebellion, as though I had only replaced his mother as a scratching post. There were times when I wished there was someone - another woman, perhaps - to share the balance, break the Another oerson, as dedicated unwholesome- t r y s t . ^ = = Another per* A. „ , „v,„ +n rippnen the commitment to family as I longed to be, someone to deepen and help i t endure. Sometimes I thought enviously of my mothers, working together to e t e r n a l i z e soul and family. They aime the goal of individual fulfillment so highly prized by my time, they aimed for mutual |