Still beautiful here in Oklahoma.
It’s the kind of weather that almost makes me forget I hate fall. It makes me remember why fall was my favorite season, the pretty leaves, mums and pumpkins, plus all the food. I love soups and pumpkin breads, hot coffee on a cold morning, and the smell of anything apple spice baking.
Sigh…I miss my love affair with fall.
Fall throws me head first into the memories of the affair.
I remember when I was, I don’t know 5? 6? going fishing with my mom, aunt, sister and step dad. I was bored, fishing is boring…I still get bored, but as a kid I had as much as I could take. By the pond, in the middle of this field was a fallen tree. I was probably annoying, Hell I’m still annoying, so when I couldn’t sit still and be quiet any longer, I was allowed to go “play” on the tree.
I climbed all over, I was an expert tree climber, tom-boy in my youth. I ended up falling off the tree and sliding as I fell into the grass. In Kansas, if you go fishing in a pasture? There are usually cows. There were cows, and they were well fed. They left a rather large, fresh cow patty behind when they moved on to graze. When I fell out of the tree, I landed and slid in the pile of cow poop.
I yelled to my mom that I had gotten cow poop on me, she just yelled back to wipe it off on the grass. She probably should have gotten up and looked herself, instead she assumed it was just on my shoe. By the time they finally turned and looked for me I was laying in the grass, rolling around trying to get the cow shit off which covered me from head to toe off.
I had to ride in the back of the truck home. My aunt took pity on me and rode with me. It was a long ride of smelly shame home.
The story is still told at family gatherings…
I thought of it last week as I rode through the pastures in the ‘mule’, our farm’s double seated gator. I don’t know if it was the fall colors, the smell of the grass, or checking cows which triggered the memory. I just know as I sat next to my husband, it flashed in through my mind.
Then I thought, it’s kind of like him. He stepped in whore, I believe him when he says it wasn’t on purpose at first. He wasn’t looking for an affair, he fell into it. Next time he was of sound mind, and looked up he was covered in it. Head to toe covered in the whore and the affair. No matter how much he rolled in the grass? That shit wasn’t going to come off.
Now before I get slammed by betrayed spouses on here? I know he chose to have an affair. I know it wasn’t an accident. However, I believe him when he says it was just some texts, that slowly stopped being innocent. I believe him when he says he crossed the line slowly, never thinking “Hey I’m looking to cheat”. He just kept taking steps, walking a little father over the line, until one day there stood “the” door. A door with a sign that said ” Affair, you can enter but you can never go back”, and he thought I’ll just take one step in, but I’ll prop the door open. I just want to see what’s on the other side.
As a kid? If I was still that kid climbing the tree in the pasture and a door appeared? Just a door standing in the field, no house, not propped up by anything…if I saw it? I would have run far from it, as fast as my short skinny legs would carry me. But I’ve always been smarter than my husband. He thought he could break the rules a little, stop whenever, and yeah, never get caught.
He opened the door, walked through and found it had slammed behind him. What was once innocent, or not so bad, became a shame he will carry with him for the rest of his life. He has to live with it…Forever.
and unlike my funny “fall from the tree” story, his was a fall from grace, a fall into being a cheating spouse…it’s not a story you laugh about at family gatherings.
He also has to live with the knowledge that he brought the shit home to me and my kids. He let us all be covered in it, before he finally washed her off.
I know I still find pieces of his whore shit under my nails, on the bottom of my shoes, and randomly here and there in my life.
I am really tired of smelling whore shit.
I know I didn’t have to climb in the back with him. I didn’t have to help him find his way home. I could have just thrown him a bar of soap and told him to wash off outside. I don’t regret helping him.
I am just really tired of smelling whore shit.
I’d like to just smell the fall air and think about carving pumpkins.
“You can have a lotta fun in a New York minute
But there’s some things you can’t do inside those city limits
Ain’t no closin’ time, ain’t no cover charge
Just country boys and girls gettin’ down on the farm
You can come as you are, there ain’t no dress code
Just some rural route rules that you need to know
Don’t mess with the bull, he can get real mean
Don’t forget to shut the gate, stay outta the beans
If it starts to rain, we’ll just head to the barn
We’re country boys and girls gettin’ down on the farm”