Editor’s Note: This personal story is a diary of an affair. It’s one woman’s recount of the emotions and events she endured as she coped with her husband’s deception, and was submitted to us anonymously. This diary will be published in a series of articles. The following is part two. Click here for part one.

Oh, Bother

Securely fastening my shoes, I ready myself for the day. Honestly I know not where it will lead, but certainly anywhere is better than here. I could loom over him with a knife and hope to startle him upon waking. I am surprisingly calm, in relative terms. Almost too calm, too reserved for my liking.

The next best thing to a re-enactment of a Norman Bates scene is to call my dear friend and talk over coffee (a lost art in my life). It certainly was the best two hours of my week. Money well spent, I say.

The weather crept upon us as nocturnal creature when encapsulated and gawked upon. The day started stellar, glorious as a postcard sent from visitors afar. I foresaw this happening, in part because I receive daily weather updates in my email, but also because the weather always fits our moods. Or perhaps life works the other way around.

Being a self-proclaimed Deist (having never truly been indoctrinated in any fashion to this philosophical forefront set out by Thomas Paine), I believe that reason and nature set the pace for the universe. It is the subtleties, the unmentioned changes in life that effect us most.

How nature can progress hour-by-hour from ‘Chamber of Commerce commercial’ perfect to ‘close the shutters and hide in the storm shelter’ gloom. We do not realize how much these changes, these telling signs of what’s to come, deeply affect the very core of our being.

What happens when a storm arrives?

You first begin to think of all the ruined plans: I was going to wash the car, play in the pool; pull the weeds.

Then a slight panic sets in reminding you of all that could go awry if you do not act ahead: Did I roll the windows in the car, bring in the yard toys, take something out for dinner that doesn’t need grilling?

Lastly, there is that hint of disappointment: I was so looking forward to a nice day in the sun, we are trapped here, staring blankly at the unfolded laundry, spotted kitchen tile, toothpaste splotched sink.

So, this storm I face. Sitting quietly, alone with my thoughts that scream loudly as though they know a drowning rush of rain will soon compete. Alone because a glance, a glimpse, a stare will turn into a thunderous burst, a heavy sheet, an electric crash.

All this work to ready ourselves for what’s to come. All this preparedness, this reassurance that all will go right regardless of nature’s course.

For what? Why bother?

She’s a funny little thing: nature. We can’t tell her how to behave for she lay restlessly in wait. Those times when we think all is right and well, she appears. Very unbecoming of her, I know. Yet, tranquil, soundless, docile.

We know she is on her way hours before she arrives. She toys with us, patiently holding off just long enough in effort that we brace ourselves to a tree, a limb, a twig. Anything to embrace until she pass as silently as she came.

And pass she shall. In due time.

Editor’s Note: Part three of the Diary of an Affair will be published shortly.