The Unpleasant Necessity of Making a Choice

The mailbox had a distinct shimmer to it that evening. A look that Peggy decided was due to the sun lowering itself towards the horizon. She collected the various letters and one magazine. Back in the house she set the stack down, went into the living room, and sat down on the couch next to her husband who was mindlessly watching CNN. She picked up her wine glass, still half full, and took a small sip. Her husband reached for his own glass and drank down most of the red fruity alcohol in one swallow. Peggy stifled a sigh. She knew they would open at least two bottles tonight, and he would drink roughly one and a half of them. Somedays Peggy feels like it’s her fault. Five years ago, when they first began dating, Peggy could put away two bottles of wine easy and a margarita or two, get up in the morning, run five miles, shower and carry on with her day. Earlier this year she slowly started tapering her drinking until now it was down to almost nothing. She recalls with delight that she has not been hungover in several months. Her runs have become easier, and her general sense of wellbeing has vastly improved. Is she expecting too much from her husband to follow her lead? It’s not like she announced that she was quitting drinking. She simply made different choices in the evening. Picking up a book, or her paints and setting a kettle on the stove to heat water for tea instead of opening a beer and reaching for the TV remote.

               Her husband continued to make the same choices he had been making for the past five years. Why now suddenly did Peggy see a vast gulf growing between them? How long had this drift been forming? How long had she been ignoring the signs, hoping life would simply work itself out. How long before the chasm got so big that it had to be dealt with or swallow them both whole into its abyss of misery.  

               Peggy got up and retrieved the mail she had brought in earlier. To a soundtrack of talking heads and conspiracy theories, she found a curious letter. The envelope was a light lavender hue. She recognized her own address in her own handwriting. Turning it over, she saw it was neatly sealed and pressed with a pink sticker for good measure. Inside the paper, also the same lavender hue, held an essence of magic. Peggy carefully unfolded the letter and as she began to read, the world with its distractions faded away.

               Her own voice rose off the page as she saw the distinctly unique way in which her ‘t’s were formed. The curve of the ‘m’s and the unfinished look of ‘a’. The tone dove immediately and dramatically into a warning. Deeper into the letter, Peggy understood what this was. Face to face with her past self, she barely had to read the last paragraph to know what it said. Glancing back at the top righthand corner, she saw the date. 

               The lightly colored paper fluttered to the floor as it fell from Peggy’s limp hand. How? The why was clear. There was no wondering about that. But how? How had a letter she had written to herself ten years earlier, with no recollection of ever writing such a letter, find its way into an envelope, seal, stamp, and arrive today. The words spoke directly and passionately to Peggy’s heart and soul. The true consequences of the choices she made five years ago. The daily life she lived in the present, was described in accurate detail, down to the last thoughts Peggy lets herself think as she drifts off into mercifully dreamless sleep at night.

               “Honey, would you mind opening another bottle of wine?” Her husband’s voice calling out from the next room startled Peggy so much she let out a little yell.

               “You ok?” He sounded mildly concerned.

               “I’m fine, just lost in thought and you startled me.”

               She quickly picked up the letter and folded it neatly back into the envelope. Tucking it away in the drawer of her nightstand, she busied herself with opening wine, pouring a glass for her husband and then herself. She took her glass, told her husband she needed some fresh air, not a lie, and walked outside down the back steps to the lower porch. This was her favorite spot on the property. It overlooked the small creek that ran through the backyard. Thick trees formed a canopy overhead. No neighbors could see or be seen from this spot. Privacy.

There was no pretense to the next thought that ran through her head, it just did. I’d have to walk away from a lot of good. The letter was also sympathetic to Peggy’s love for her husband, a decent man. However, she told herself (from ten years prior) it doesn’t get better from here. The drinking sure, that wasn’t the main issue, just a symptom of a life that had become so lackadaisical that no goal or dream or future endeavor could break through and create action steps today.         

Content to sit was how she could best sum up her husband. Sit in front of his computer for work all day, sit in front of the TV at night, sit at the bar with his buddies. Peggy had taken an interest in running, not for a hangover cure, but for real fitness. She had her sights on a full marathon. She also enjoyed being outdoors hiking and breathing fresh air. Finding fresh goats’ milk at the farmer’s market, Peggy tried her hand at soap making, which to her surprise worked.

               These were all the things she told herself to drive the point home. The reality of what she had grown to understand she needed out of life, and the limitations her marriage afforded her was glaringly clear. Goal driven, determined and successful at whatever Peggy put her mind to, she now saw clearly with the help of poignant words from her past, that her husband had none of those qualities. 

               What he did have, she could no longer pretend was enough. It was a hard realization to come to. Having the letter as confirmation of what Peggy was reluctantly accepting, did nothing to ease the pain of heartache to come, both hers and her husband’s. Peggy's own heart broke as she knew her husband’s would. He was going to be crushed. Devastated when she told him of her decision. How could she possibly do this to him? Could she stay? How could she possibly do that to herself? It was a no-win situation, and as Peggy stood staring off into the distant forest, sipping her wine, she felt a resolve forming. Fortifying her strength with a heaping dose of help from her past self, she became determined to complete this unpleasant task.