For the last seven years, C and I would spend the summer driving with our dogs in an old beat-up motorhome from art fair to art fair all over the country selling her paintings. Those experiences were some of the greatest of my life. I wouldn’t trade a moment of time with her. The thought of not being there this summer with her is as painful as the remorse for my infidelity and loss of her respect, trust, and love.
My heart breaks over and over and over. I’m an idiot. A self-sabotaging, unforgiven fool.
One of C’s favorite artists was our fellow traveler, Don Nedobeck.
Today, in an attempt to create new memories and overwrite old ones I randomly picked a coffee shop in Madison, Wisconsin.
Walked into this reminder, when I went into the men’s room. Hanging on the wall is one of Don’s signed prints.
The caption reads, “We call her Rainbow. But why?; She never comes when we call.”
My pet name for C throughout our relationship was “Kitten”. Moving forward I’m going to refer to C as Rainbow. I’m not doing this as a derogatory or dismissive response, but rather as a symbolic reminder that our relationship has evolved into something
ephemeral, through my grief romanticized and through my pain forged into a mythology.
The cold, hard, and brutal reality is, at this point, I am chasing a rainbow.