Enough

She stood there looking in the mirror, watching a single tear slide down her cheek slowly, feeling the warmth on her soft skin and the stinging in her eye. Her chocolate brown hair was perfect, not a single curl out of place. She’d spent hours getting her hair just right, making sure that her makeup was flawless, and choosing a dress that loved every inch of her body. Tonight, was supposed to be special, supposed to be perfect, what could possibly go wrong?

Him, he could go wrong. He always did. He was always late. He was always distracted. He was always secretive. He was always emotionally detached. He knew exactly how to break her heart. He enjoyed it, in fact. He felt powerful, but he was weak, extraordinarily weak. He was so insecure, that he did everything he could to make her feel small.

Margo looked at herself in the mirror, she knows she is beautiful. Her petite frame is trim, firm, sensual, even goddess like. She also knows it, because of the way people look at her when she walks into the room. There is a change in the energy when she is present. She is magnetic. She has several successful careers, she travels, she enjoys painting, and can put a more beautiful meal on the table than anyone she’s ever met.

Why in the world does this insecure man have a hold on me this way? Why do I love him so much? Why do I want to save him so badly? She has asked herself these questions over and over for the last two years. With a sigh, she turns away from the mirror and heads to the closet to change out of her crimson red dress and high heels.

Comfort, she needed comfort. Her dress fell to the floor uneventfully, and she felt her ankles breathe a sigh of relief as her bare feet hit the velvety soft rug beneath them. She reached for her favorite worn in hoodie from college, and some soft joggers, along with her fuzzy black slippers. She allowed a laugh to escape her throat because she knew, Ian hated those slippers. She gracefully and happily put her hair up in the perfect top knot, thinking to herself, “why does it always look so perfect when nobody is around?”.

She wandered to the kitchen, holding her phone in her hand, double checking to see if he had called to apologize for being late or maybe sent a text to say that he was on his way? Nothing. " Of course, not", she mumbled to herself, instantly feeling silly for that ember of hope glowing inside her gut. She looked at the table, artfully set for two. All of Ian's favorite things were there on the table, prepared exactly as he wanted them. She had, like always, allowed him to choose the menu. Even the whiskey that he loved. Margo hated whiskey, she hated alcohol for that matter, but Ian, well he didn’t seem to be able to breathe without it. She hated the way it made his eyes glassy, his words even sharper than usual, and mostly, she hated how it made his lifeless kisses taste of synthetic sweetness against her soft, warm lips.

Margo decided she would not eat anything that had been chosen for this meal. After all, she didn’t like anything on the table. She carried the plates of once warm food, and poured them into the trash with much more force than she had intended. The empty glasses went into the cupboard, and the unopened bottle of whiskey went into the liquor cabinet. Now that the dishes were done, Margo heard her stomach angrily reminding her that she had yet to eat. She glanced at the clock and realized just how late it was. She normally didn’t eat later than seven.

Obliging her stomach and her heart she gazed into the refrigerator and carefully selected the things that always made her feel lovingly nourished. Her food looked like a beautiful painting. Various hues of leafy greens, red bell peppers, sweet corn, fresh avocado, purple carrots, and blueberries for that sweet bite. Followed by sunflower seeds and some shaved almonds for that earthy flavor. She adorned the fresh smelling salad with a homemade dressing that was both sweet and savory, and finally, added a pinch of sea salt and freshly ground pepper, and set out for the back porch.

The humid Arizona air was always so comforting to Margo. Especially in the Summer when the monsoons loomed in the sky with the promise of opening and unleashing the cleansing tears of heaven upon the Earth. She loved this view. She had worked hard to create a beautiful outdoor space. The outdoors was her haven from the hectic modern world. The smell of the freshly cut grass, her favorite aroma of creosote, the sweet scent of the fragrant flowers and even the trees she had carefully selected and planted at the edges of the yard. Lemons, Oranges, Peaches, and Pears. She loved having access to these luxurious gifts of nature at her fingertips. Margo closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling grateful for the loving embrace that mother nature was now giving her. She squeezed her neck and shoulders, feeling the tension exit her body with every inhale and exhale.

After a few more deep breaths, she felt a smile curl at the corners of her mouth, grateful for the reprieve her breathing had granted her. Opening her eyes and allowing them to focus, her gaze was drawn to the far side of the yard where her pear tree stood. Margo admired this tree so much. Its trunk was strong and steady as were its branches. And its leaves seemed to dance at the whim of the wind in a celebratory manner. She walked barefoot, across the damp grass, enjoying the feel of the blades between her toes with every step.

She loved the way that the tree seemed to greet her like an old friend, as the leaves fluttered in excitement and the branches swayed as though waving hello. She reached up and grasped a pear that was within reach. It was robust, smooth, and honestly just perfect. She thanked her tree for the gift as she always did, and bit straight into the pear. She let out a delightful laugh as the juice tumbled down her chin and she tasted the sweetness and fullness of the fruit, pure satisfaction. Once again Margo closed her eyes and relished in the moment.

Just then, she felt her heart swell with gratitude, the tears once again were flowing from her eyes. She stood strong and steady, as she told herself all the things that she had longed to hear from Ian, that had never come. I am beautiful, I am strong, I am worthy, I am the tree, I am the fruit, I am enough, I am loved. As if on cue, the sky let out a roaring thunder that reminded Margo of applause, affirming what she already knew. She continued to cry, feeling proud of herself, and the heavens joined her by unleashing cleansing tears of their own. Margo had finally accepted that she deserved better, and had chosen herself and her own love, which was really all she would ever need.