It would have been better if he had hated me, or if he had abused me, or if he had packed his new suitcases and left.Īs it was he continued to put his arm round me and talk about being a new wall to replace the rotten fence that divided our garden from his vegetable patch. The only thing he wanted to change was me. He didn't want to change anything he liked his life. He was courteous and polite he enjoyed being at home, but in the fantasy of his home I was not the one who sat opposite him and laughed at his jokes. “When my husband had an affair with someone else I watched his eyes glaze over when we ate dinner together and I heard him singing to himself without me, and when he tended the garden it was not for me.

The truth is, you never understood yourself.” As for your beloved, she didn't understand you. Suddenly the enchanted city fades and you are left alone again in the windy desert. The pain is when the dreams change, as they do, as they must. I may be cynical when I say that very rarely is the beloved more than a shaping spirit for the lover's dreams. But it is not fate, at least, not if fate is something outside of us it is a choice made in secret after nights of longing.

I think it is often so that those most in need of change choose to fall in love and then throw up their hands and blame it all on fate. or is it that the life itself was already worn out? I had finished with that life, perhaps, and could not admit it, being stubborn or afraid, or perhaps did not known it, habit being a great binder.

Such a sacrifice must be the result of love. To alter everything that makes sense to me and to move into a different world where the only known will be the beloved. “On more than one occasion I have been ready to abandon my whole life for love.

Sexing the cherry book