Surviving Narcissism Exploring life after marriage to a narcissist. Learning and thriving by sharing our story. – Jesse Blayne

“When the moon hits your eye
Like a big-a pizza pie
That’s amore.”

Sung by a gray plastic, full moon face with lips that moved.  Will had been given this as a gift.  I believe the singing moon was some sort of yard decoration.  When Will was four, he really got a kick out of that annoying thing.  At one point, I had covered the sound holes with duct tape.

I put up with loud, obnoxious toys if those toys buy me 15 minutes to write an email, brush my teeth and go to the bathroom.

I think that moon sang for the last time at the city dump.  Will had given me permission to get rid of it.

When I first saw this little house that we call home, I knew it was perfect.  I had walked by it several times and assumed it was too small for the three of us, but the realtor talked me into taking a look.

The first time we walked in the front door, we were bombarded with signs that this was the perfect place.  From the red walls in the kitchen; to the fact that all my peely paint furniture would fit and match the existing paint colors; to the sumac trees in the side yard; and the close proximity to grandma and grandpa.  This house  had our names written all over it.

Not long before I made the decision to leave Mark, he had decided to put an addition on his house.  I had tried talking him out of it.  I’m a firm believer in ‘less is more’.  Mostly I panicked at the thought of having more hardwoods to try to keep sparkling clean.  I didn’t have a whole lot of say in how the addition would look.  For some reason, he let me pick the paint color for the kitchen walls.  I went with a dark, moody red.

This new house had almost the same exact color in the kitchen.

That had to be a sign.

My grandma had given me a couple Sumac shoots to plant in Mark’s yard.  I love the lacy look of Sumac leaves.   Mark used to accidentally run over those tender shoots with his riding lawn mower.  I’m not sure why the stakes that I had carefully placed around the shoots didn’t cause a problem for the mower.  Our new house had lovely mature Sumacs in the side yard.

I’ve since let the little shoots come up where ever they please.

The day before moving day, I’d done some shopping in an effort to pick up the stuff we’d need to start a new life in our new home – Cheerios, milk, bread, eggs, lunch stuff for school, and the paper bags for taking lunches to school.  I had managed to cross everything off the list, but for some reason – probably because 7 million things were running through my mind – I’d forgotten to pick up a bundle of paper bags.

My mom and a couple girlfriends were unpacking and getting the kitchen put together.  We had school the next day, so we had to get our ducks in a row.  The girls unpacked and mom wiped out the cabinets.   The previous owners were meticulous.  They didn’t leave much behind.  I heard my mom laugh when she opened one of the kitchen drawers.  Inside the clean drawer was a brand new bundle of paper bags –  just the size I would need for Will’s lunches.

The beds were made, the kitchen could be cooked in, everyone had given their hugs and said congrats and goodbye.

The wine was opened.   I took a glass and walked around the house and then the yard.  The back yard has a fenced garden plot, a covered storage for firewood, and a built in potting shed on the back of the house.   I was standing in the middle of the backyard, sipping wine, feeling full of the strong emotions that come with realizing that, for the first time, I was living in my own home.  I took in the view of my new home, surrounded by old trees with leaves starting to turn.  I looked at the cute potting shed that held all the promise of fun planting in the Spring, and I saw that damn singing full moon on the back of the house next to the red door of the potting shed.

It was exactly like the moon Will loved, when he was four years old.

I had never seen another like the one Will had received three years previous.

I have never seen another since.

We kept this one.