A Triangle of Tears

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. “I didn’t think grown adults celebrated Valentine’s Day,” I said to Steve. He said he still wanted to do something Valentine’sy. Okay, that’s kind of sweet. 

I am working as a server in a restaurant. I miss my kids. I miss my kids. I miss my kids. I’m not used to working all day on my feet but if I am going to do anything, being a server is pretty close to being a mom, but my kids aren’t there. I just hope I can make enough money to survive and hopefully thrive. 

I could talk about socioeconomic issues. I could talk about what it is to be human. I could talk about the Chiefs winning the super bowl. But instead I will talk about the strange surrealism it is to be me right now. 

Tyler surprised me on Friday by showing up at my work with the kids. They kissed me and said hello then goodbye, then I cried for the next twenty minutes while serving tables. When I got home that night, the kids were asleep on an air mattress on my bedroom floor. Tyler left and I had the kids until the next day. 

We went to the mall with Steve. After that, Tyler met us back at my place. Tyler and Steve stood next to each other on the driveway talking somewhat. 

Steve with his beard. Tyler with his wild curly hair. Steve who changed everything for me in a matter of months. Steve who feels like every good memory I’ve ever had. Steve who is still so new. Tyler who is familiar. Tyler who knows more about me than anyone else. Tyler who has been with me through poverty and court battles and leaving the church. Tyler who gives me panic attacks. They looked so different and my love for them was different. 

And then my children got in the car with Tyler and he pulled away. My children were gone again. I could smell gas from the porch. It was coming from the gas meter. I texted my landlord about the problem, grabbed some things and then went to Steve’s house for the rest of the weekend. Back to work on Monday just like a normal person. But my kids. My kids. How do I live without crying every moment for my kids? 

My God, life is strange.