I was looking at my dining room chairs last night.
The beautiful "newish" dining room chairs my ex bought us back in January.
They are cream, leather, and very modern. He spent about $250 a chair... maybe a little less.
Back in April, I adopted my boys (two furry bundles of joy.) These little devils proceeded to climb the back of the leather chairs and basically turn a beautiful dining experience into Braille.
Needless to say, I sort of freaked out when it first happened.
Now.. I simply accept it.
Plus I just want to toss the chairs.
AND the table.
I bought in back in 2002, for a life I once had. A large ranch style house in North Macon, two kids (foreign exchange students,) two dogs, a fenced in back yard with an immaculate garden, and a husband. I went to church every Sunday, bible study on Wednesday, and had dinner parties. That life.. and that husband is no longer.
When I moved to Birmingham and remarried, my new husband reminded me all of the time of how much he hated that dining room table. It was large and honestly meant for a family. I think he hated what it represented or what it meant. It meant we would have to sit across from each other and talk.
You see, I bought that dining room table when I married my first husband to recreate something I experienced as a child - Dinner with family.
As children, we always sat down with my family for dinner. We sat and we shared our day. I have no idea if my parents actually listened or if they were even slightly entertained by our stories of the day... but we were all there. We sat down for dinner and we talked. Granted, that may be the only civilized conversation we had all day, but it is what we did, and I actually looked forward to it.
So when I got married, I wanted that - dinner, and family, and conversation. It represented something I loved and something I felt was important. No matter how "cool" I was or old I got, I always found myself opening up about my friends and situations at school with my entire family at the dinner table. I thought... maybe... it would build a strong foundation for my "family."
So the first one did not work out. Then the second one did not value that level of communication. Now I am left with remnants of a life I tried to create.
With each tear from the cat's claws.. I sort of have given up on that life. What's more important, I accept that my reality is not always what we dream of.
I think I am going to toss those chairs, sell the table and china cabinet (which is in storage,) and move on. Move on mentally... and simply hold onto what was, and realize what "could have been" is just not in the cards for me.