I Was Wrong

I was wrong.

Very wrong.

And I couldn’t be happier about it.

When we were house hunting last summer, Brock expressed his lifelong dream of converting a basement into a theater. I responded with my not-a-lifelong fear of basements.

No, really. Read this.

As the house hunt became a home reality, this became a source of tension as he was responding with excitement about the proposed entertainment room and I was countering with trepidation.

That damned basement in my old life has almost a personified flavor of evil in my mind. It contained the molted skins of the man I loved as he morphed into some dark creature. It hid his secrets. It protected him as he carried out his nefarious deeds. It swallowed him for ever increasing hours as the marriage sped towards its inevitable and spectacular end. I was living atop a portal to hell.

And I was afraid that another basement might also serve as a conduit of corruption. That my new husband might also fall sway to whatever whispers arise from the blackness beyond the concrete walls. That he would be swallowed and return changed. That a new portal hell would be opened and new demons welcomed in.

But I was wrong.

Completely and spectacularly wrong.

He was largely on his own on this project due to my schedule and my general hesitancy about the undertaking.

And he has done a great job, turning a half-finished grubby former office into a slick and comfortable theater.

A theater for us.

For our friends.

It is not a place to hide.

It is a place to connect.

In fact, even with my stupidly early bedtimes, he rarely goes down there alone.

It wants to keep it special.

And it is.

I was wrong.

Very wrong.

And I couldn’t be happier.

The only demons in this space are imagined on the screen. And those can only hurt me if I allow them to.

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16 thoughts on “I Was Wrong

      1. It was a wonderful break from the norm.

        Sat in a great bar in downtown Cleveland last night before a concert discussing your guest post with one of my divorced guy friends.

        Thank you for writing it. For the content.

        And thank you for generously sharing it with a different audience.

        It was impactful.

        1. So glad you enjoyed your trip.

          Hope you’re adapting well:) Sorry, couldn’t resist!

          Thanks, as always, for being such a cheerleader for me. It’s helps more than you can imagine on those days when I question myself (which happens more than you can imagine too!).

          1. I hope you understand what I mean when I say this… But there’s something oddly uplifting about YOU doubting yourself, at least in this space.

            Thank you for continuing to tell your story even while second-guessing yourself. Hope you have a great weekend. πŸ™‚

            1. I get it. It makes me human. Fallible. Relatable. Like I’ve said before, we ALL feel that way sometimes. I just wish sometimes I didn’t:)

              Trying to finish a HuffPo piece right now and I’m stalling because I’m second guessing. Grrr.

              Have a great weekend yourself!

  1. This was a great read. Isn’t it funny how things aren’t always what they seem? In the past, something that seemed to be one thing turned out to be a nightmare. In the present, it is quite the opposite. Hooray for happy endings!

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