Deconstruction

Hiking up the mountain, all Sarah could do was fume. Every jibe of Jerry’s, every cutting remark, played and replayed in her head until her brain was buzzing with agitated adrenaline.

It wasn’t until she made it to the top of the long trail and settled herself onto Bantam Rock that the memory of their latest confrontation retreated to a reasonable distance, and Sarah could think again.

Done. She and Jerry were done.

They’d been done for a while, but she’d been so stuck in trying to make it work, so caught up in trying to figure out what was wrong, what was wrong with her, she hadn’t realized their marriage was dead until it had gone past rigor mortis and was well into stinking.

She knew now, though. Even leaving out the fact that he’d been sleeping with his secretary for the past year, and God, what a cliché that was, there was no getting past the horrible things he’d said to her in their latest row.

Sarah grimaced, lips tight. She was not going over that ground again!

Drawing her shawl close against October’s chill, she gazed down at the valley stretched out before her, soaking in the beauty of the purple haze encircling nearby peaks. The scents of pine and sagebrush tickled her nose and as the ugliness of the day slowly drained away, her hard-won calm returned.

It was time, she thought, past time, to let go of the constant, corrosive drama of her marriage and move forward. Time to focus on what she wanted for herself, not on the futility of keeping Jerry placated.

Time.

Closing her eyes, Sarah raised her face to the sky and let the silence fill her.