On the way in to work (only a 1-hawk morning on MoPac, alas), I was thinking about something my stepmother told me years ago when my ex-husband and I were separated, but the possibility of reconciliation still hung in the air. "If you love him, treat him that way," she said, "and that's the best you can do."
In that case, it didn't, and couldn't, work. Too much damage had been done over the years, and mostly by me. But right now, with R., I know I did my best. I never treated him with anything less than love -- pure, honest love. In fact, I was brave, and laid myself right out like Isaac on the altar. I feel somewhat flayed at the moment, but I'm alive, and, like the song says, "But I won't let it change me/Not if I can/I'd rather believe in love."
And give it away, as much as I can, to those I am fondest of. . . .