History Repeats...

I’m laying here in the dark all alone. I can feel the house all around me. I think I am finally finished with this house for good. I used to live in this house when I was a teenager. My parents divorced when I was fifteen and my step dad moved into this house. My mother decided that things just couldn’t work anymore. He was angry all of the time, and didn’t want to do much besides sit around and drink case after case of beer. So my dad moved and I came to live with him two weeks out of each month. He used to lay sprawled out on the floor with an empty beer case next to him and bottles all around, the music was all you could hear. Pink Floyd would blast from the speakers into the bare room. He would do this for days, laying alone in the dark with nothing but the music and his pain and frustration to keep him company. He eventually moved on and re-married. He lives one town away now. But years later, at the beginning of my marriage I found out that I wasn’t the only one who used to live in that house. My husband had lived there too when he was a young boy. The irony only got weirder when we decided to buy the house. So there we were moving into a house that both of us had lived in once before when our parents were divorced. I used to think that this was some kind of sign telling me that my marriage was meant to be. We both grew up in the same house, and then we bought it. Our daughter now lives in the room that was ours as children. I have come to know that when I leave and take my daughter and all of my possessions, that history will repeat its self. He will lay on the floor in an empty room with nothing but the oversized speakers and a case of beer to council him. It’s funny how we end up choosing people who are so like our parents to be with. I think I did that because it gave me a sense of safety and comfort. I’ve never been a stable person, emotionally or financially. I had found someone who could take on that role for me and ended up sparing myself from having to really grow up. Now it’s been ten years and I have grown up. I’ve grown up so well that I have outgrown my need for simple comfort. I just woke up one day and realized that I wanted more out of life than to be some ones maid. I have become my mother, deciding that things just can’t be this way anymore. He is angry all of the time, and spends all of his time preoccupied with things that are not important to me or my daughter. How is it that with all of the effort I put into trying to learn from her mistakes that I end up here? I am exactly where she was fifteen years ago. I am alone, scared and unsure. The only real comfort I have is the fact that it worked out for both my mother and father in the end. My mom did it with four kids. I know I can do this with one. My father didn’t kill himself like I thought he would, he moved on and started to live life again. Will history repeat so accurately? Will it happen the same way?