A Walk in the Woods

No one else seemed to find it odd, but watching my new husband stuff his jacket pockets with eight cans of beer for a twenty minute walk in the woods got my attention.  It would take another thirteen years before I fully came to grips with the seriousness of what I'd gotten myself into and managed to crawl out of, but I think it was that moment more than any other that clarified and defined the most self-destructive choice I'd ever made.  Standing at the back door with the autumn leaves all blazing with color just outside the windows, shame took on a new dimension.  Eight cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon - what they called "Big Boys", the 16 ounce cans designed for the serious beer drinker - at barely eleven in the morning.  I could almost feel the steel jaws of pride and stubbornness and denial slamming shut and underneath, where the voice you refuse to listen to pleads and carries on, I knew the trap had been finally and fully sprung.

It would be nice - although delusional - to say I didn't know.  The not so pleasant truth is that I'd known pretty much from the first moment we'd met but with meticulous planning and exquisite attention to detail, I'd not so much willed it away as kept it a carefully guarded secret.  I needed time, I told myself, to change him, repair the damage, fix him.  He was unhappy, I wanted to think, unappreciated and misunderstood.   He drank to escape the misery and sadness.  He was cold and distant because he was lost.  He needed love and patience and rehab.  I gave him protection and a partner in crime and instead of rescuing him, I got sicker and in the end was barely able to save myself.  It makes me wonder how often "love at first sight" is really nothing more than sick and broken calling to sick and broken.

We walked in the woods that late September day until each can of beer was gone - it took surprisingly little time - and by the time we returned, he was sleepy and good natured and unsteady on his feet.  After lunch and a few more six packs, he crawled off to bed while it was still light.

No one else seemed to find that odd either.

Families teach what they know.  Sometimes we only learn by finding new teachers and walking in the woods alone.